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CALEB  WILLIAMS 


THE   ROGUES'   BOOKSHELF 


ERNEST  BRENNECKE,  Jr.,  Editor 


THE     PLEASANT     HISTORY     OF     LAZARILLO     DE     TORMES, 

with    Introduction    to    The    Rogues'    Bookshelf 
by  Carl  Van  Doren. 

THE     ADVENTURES     OF     FERDINAND,     COUNT     FATHOM, 

by  Tobias  Smollett,  M.D.       Introduction  by  Ernest 
Boyd. 

MODERN    CHIVALRY,    CONTAINING   THE   ADVENTURES    OF 

captain   john   farrago,   by  Hugh  Henry  Brack- 
enridge.     Introduction  by  Ernest  Brennecke,  Jr. 

THE      UNFORTUNATE      TRAVELER,      OR      THE      LIFE      OF 

jack   wilton,   by  Thomas   Nashe.      Introduction 
by  Samuel  C.  Chew. 

THINGS  AS    THEY    ARE,    OR   THE   ADVENTURES    OF    CALEB 

Williams,   by  William  Godwin.      Introduction  by 
Van  Wyck  Brooks. 

THE      HISTORY      OF      THE      LIFE      OF      THE      LATE      MR. 

Jonathan  wild  the  great,  by  Henry  Fielding. 
Introduction   by  John  Macy. 


Other  titles  in  preparation. 


THE     ROGUES'      BOOKSHELF 
The  Adventures  of 

CALEB  WILLIAMS 


BY 


WILLIAM  GODWIN 


With  an  Introduction 

By  VAN  WYCK  BROOKS 


JjE. 


NEW  YORK 

GREENBERG,  PUBLISHER 

1926 


A        /  f 


J 


Copyright,  1926, 
GREENBERG,  PUBLISHER,  Inc. 


>ft 

c 


INTRODUCTION 

The  author  of  Caleb  Williams  was  one  of  those  men,  re- 
markable in  themselves,  who  are  yet  remembered  more  be- 
cause of  the  circle  about  them  than  for  anything  they  do 
or  say  themselves.  He  was  Mary  Wollstonecraft's  husband^ 
he  was  Shelley's  father-in-law,  and  between  these  two  flames  / 
his  own  candle  has  grown  dim  indeed.  And  yet  this  candle 
lighted  the  flame  of  Shelley.  It  was  at  Godwin's  feet  that 
the  young  poet  from  Oxford  drank  in  those  ideas  of  re- 
form and  political  justice,  of  philosophical  anarchy,  that 
burned  in  his  own  poems  to  the  very  last.  Godwin  was 
calm  and  cold  beside  the  stormy  souls  whom  he  attracted. 
But  some  fire  there  was  in  that  life  of  reason.  Caleb 
Williams  alone  is  enough  to  prove  it. 

The  novel  was  published  in  1794,  at  the  height  of  the 
French  Revolution.  Godwin  was  thirty-eight.  Years  be- 
fore, as  a  Nonconformist  minister,  already  alien  to  the 
traditions  of  English  society,  he  had  fallen  in  with  the 
writings  of  the  French  Encyclopaedists.  He  dreamed  of  the/ 
birth  of  a  new  social  order,  to  be  introduced  by  discussion, 
in  which  life  would  be  ruled  by  principle  instead  of  cus- 
4  torn,  a  kingless,  priestless  world  where  no  man  would  have 
the  control  of  another,  where  punishment  was  abolished,  s 
where  property  was  owned  in  common,  where  marriage  and 
family  ties  no  longer  restricted  the  freedom  of  the  indi- 
vi  vidual.  He  summed  these  views  up  in  the  great  work  of 
his  life,  the  Inquiry  Concerning  Political  Justice,  published 
just  one  year  before  Caleb  Williams.  And  the  latter,  which 
bears,  significantly,  the  sub-title,  Things  as  They  Are,  re- 
flects many  of  the  preoccupations  of  the  treatise. 

"Every  fable,"  says  Thoreau,  "contains  a  moral.     But 
the  innocent  enjoy  the  story."    The  story  of  Caleb  Williams 


LISRARf 


vi  INTRODUCTION 

is  very  engrossing,  but  we  cannot  miss  those  other  aspects 
that  make  it  also  a  very  impressive  document  of  the  Age  of 
/  Revolution.  The  story  is,  in  brief,  that  of  the  despotic 
^  power  exercised  by  a  master  over  his  servant.  Mr.  Falk- 
land is  a  country  gentleman  of  the  greatest  apparent  nobil- 
ity of  character.  His  pride,  however,  his  sentiment  of 
/honor,  or,  one  might  better  say,  the  sentiment  of  his  repu- 
tation, is  his  ruling  passion.  An  enemy,  Mr.  Tyrrel,  humili- 
ates him  in  public ;  and  Mr.  Falkland  murders  Mr.  Tyrrel. 
Terrified  by  the  fear  of  exposure,  of  the  loss  of  his  "reputa- 
tion," he  causes  the  blame  to  be  cast  upon  two  innocent 
laborers.  His  servant,  Caleb  Williams,  who  has  learned 
the  truth,  he  binds  by  terrible  threats;  and  when  at  last 
Caleb  runs  away  he  has  him  apprehended  on  a  trumped-up 
charge  of  stealing.  Caleb  is  thrown  into  prison  but  escapes 
before  the  trial,  only  to  find  that  all  England  is  his  prison; 
for  Mr.  Falkland  has  hired  a  bully  named  Gines  who  fol- 
lows on  his  heels  and  represents  him  as  a  criminal  in  every 
company  he  enters.  Down  to  the  final  chapter  he  cannot 
escape  from  this  vengeance,  for  who  will  take  the  word  of 
an  ignorant  servant,  on  the  question  which  is  guilty,  against 
a  gentleman  of  rank  and  distinction?  At  last,  however, 
though  only  by  a  miracle,  Caleb  finds  a  magistrate  who 
trusts  him.  Mr.  Falkland,  confronted,  confesses,  and  Caleb 
is  released  from  the  power  of  the  tyrant. 

The  revolutionary  note  in  the  plot  is  sufficiently  plain. 
"The  law,"  says  Caleb,  "has  neither  eyes,  nor  ears,  nor 
bowels  of  humanity;  and  it  turns  into  marble  the  hearts  of 
all  those  that  are  nursed  in  its  principles."  Of  the  power 
of  property  the  book  speaks  with  passion:  "The  story  of  a 
flagitious  murder  shall  be  listened  to  with  indifference, 
while  an  innocent  man  is  hunted,  like  a  wild  beast,  to  the 
farthest  corners  of  the  earth!  Six  thousand  a  year  shall 
protect  a  man  from  accusation;  and  the  validity  of  an  im- 
peachment shall  be  superseded  because  the  author  of  it 
is  a  servant!"  And  there  is  not  less  passion  in  the  de- 
scription of  Caleb's  prison.  "  'Thank  God,'  exclaims  the 
Englishman,  'we  have  no  Bastille!    Thank  God,  with  us  no 


INTRODUCTION  vii 

man  can  be  punished  without  a  crime! '  Unthinking  wretch! 
Is  that  a  country  of  liberty  where  thousands  languish  in 
dungeons  and  fetters?  Go,  go,  ignorant  fool,  and  visit  the 
scenes  of  our  prisons!  Witness  their  unwholesomeness, 
their  filth,  the  tyranny  of  their  governors,  the  misery  of  their 
inmates!  After  that,  show  me  the  man  shameless  enough  to 
triumph,  and  say,  England  has  no  Bastille!"  There  is  the 
feeling  that  makes  revolutions;  and  shocking  indeed  is  God- 
win's picture  of  this  prison,  based  as  it  is  on  careful  ob- 
servation. 

But  to  turn  to  the  story  itself,  the  character  of  Falkland 
lives  in  our  minds  as  one  of  the  great  creations  of  fiction. 
In  the  end  Caleb  says  of  him:  "A  nobler  spirit  lived  not 
among  the  sons  of  men."  And  nothing  could  be  more  re- 
markable than  the  way  in  which  the  author  justifies  this 
statement.  We  see  Falkland  at  first  chivalrous,  benevolent, 
the  very  pattern  of  Aristotle's  magnanimous  man,  with  only 
one  weakness,  that  pride  of  reputation  which  turns  him  intov; 
a  murderer  and  a  madman.  "I  live/'  he  says,  "the  guard-7 
ian  of  my  reputation.  That,  and  to  endure  a  misery  such 
as  man  never  endured,  are  the  only  ends  to  which  I  live. 
But  when  I  am  no  more,  my  fame  shall  survive.  My  char- 
acter shall  be  revered  as  spotless  and  unimpeachable  by  all 
posterity,  as  long  as  the  name  of  Falkland  shall  be  re- 
peated in  the  most  distant  regions  of  the  many-peopled 
globe."  This  pride  is  the  rock  on  which  he  goes  to  pieces. 
One  would  have  to  seek  far  in  literature  to  find  a  more 
powerful  study  of  an  obsession  than  that  which  transforms 
the  gay,  humane  Falkland  into  a  fiend  of  vengeance  and 
remorse. 

Gines  too,  Falkland's  tool,  is  a  memorable  character.  A 
villain  after  Dickens's  heart,  he  appears  like  fate  when- 
ever Caleb  is  on  the  point  of  escaping:  appears  in  the 
thieves'  den  where  Caleb  falls  by  chance,  appears  in  the 
humble  lodging  he  has  found  in  London,  appears  at  the 
ship  when  Caleb  is  about  to  escape  to  Holland,  pursues  him 
into  Wales  where  he  thinks  he  has  discovered  a  safe  refuge 
at  last.     And  Caleb,  who  tells  his  own  story,  draws  in 


viii  INTRODUCTION 

himself  a  character  we  cannot  easily  forget.     If  Godwin 

V  intended  here  to  show  the  worth  of  the  lower  orders  of 

society,  for  the  sake  of  whom  he  professed  his  revolutionary 

ideas,  he  could  not  have  succeeded  better.     Self-taught, 

courageous,  an  eager  student,  able  to  pull  himself  out  of 

\  the  direst  situations,  forgiving,  admiring,  cheerful,  he  wins 

\our  affection  and  keeps  it  to  the  last. 

In  the  intervals  of  the  story,  the  adventures  of  Caleb 
in  his  flight  across  England,  there  is  much  that  suggests 
^  Smollett  and  Dickens  and  Borrow.  The  incident  of  Caleb's 
imprisonment,  the  scenes  in  the  thieves'  refuge,  the  episode 
of  Mr.  Spurrel,  the  watchmaker's  assistant  with  whom  Caleb 
stays  in  London,  the  idyllic  picture  of  Wales  and  the  family 
of  Laura  are  drawn  with  a  hand  that  might  have  written 
another  "Lavengro."  But  vivid  and  entertaining  as  these 
incidents  are,  the  main  theme  overshadows  them  com- 
pletely. The  relation  between  Falkland  and  Caleb  has  all 
the  intensity  and  terror  of  a  great  drama.  "Man  is  a  wolf 
to  man,"  said  a  certain  philosopher.  No  one  has  presented 
that  view  of  human  nature  more  forcibly  than  the  author 
of  Caleb  Williams, 

Van  Wyck  Brooks. 

New  Canaan,  Conn.,  March,  1926. 


Adventures  of  Caleb  JVilliams 


CHAPTER  ONE 

MY  life  has  for  several  years  been  a  theatre  of  calam- 
ity. I  have  been  a  mark  for  the  vigilance  of 
tyranny,  and  I  could  not  escape.  My  fairest 
prospects  have  been  blasted.  My  enemy  has  shown  him- 
self inaccessible  to  entreaties,  and  untired  in  persecution. 
My  fame,  as  well  as  my  happiness,  has  become  its  vic- 
tim. Every  one,  as  far  as  my  story  has  been  known,  has 
refused  to  assist  me  in  my  distress,  and  has  execrated  my 
name.  I  have  not  deserved  this  treatment.  My  own  con- 
science witnesses  in  behalf  of  that  innocence,  my  pre- 
tensions to  which  are  regarded  in  the  world  as  incredible. 
There  is  now,  however,  little  hope  that  I  shall  escape  from 
the  toils  that  universally  beset  me.  I  am  incited  to  the 
penning  of  these  memoirs  only  by  a  desire  to  divert  my 
mind  from  the  deplorableness  of  my  situation,  and  a  faint 
idea  that  posterity  may  by  their  means  be  induced  to 
render  me  a  justice  which  my  contemporaries  refuse.  My 
story  will,  at  least,  appear  to  have  that  consistency  which  is 
seldom  attendant  but  upon  truth. 

I  was  born  of  humble  parents,  in  a  remote  county  of 
England.  Their  occupations  were  such  as  usually  fall  to  the 
lot  of  peasants,  and  they  had  no  portion  to  give  me,  but  an 
education  free  from  the  usual  sources  of  depravity,  and 
the  inheritance,  long  since  lost  by  their  unfortunate  pro- 
geny! of  an  honest  Jamet  I  was  taught  the  rudiments  of 
no  science,  except  reading,  writing,  and  arithmetic.  But  I 
had  an  inquisitive  mind,  and  neglected  no  means  of  infor- 

i 


^ 
^ 


J 


2  ADVENTURES  OF 

mation  from  conversation  or  books.  My  improvement  was 
greater  than  my  condition  in  life  afforded  room  to  expect. 

There  are  other  circumstances  deserving  to  be  mentioned 
as  having  influenced  the  history  of  my  future  life.  I  was 
somewhat  above  the  middle  stature.  Without  being  par- 
ticularly athletic  in  appearance,  or  large  in  my  dimen- 
sions, I  was  uncommonly  vigorous  and  active.  My  joints 
were  supple,  and  I  was  formed  to  excel  in  youthful  sports. 
The  habits  of  my  mind,  however,  were  to  a  certain  degree 
at  war  with  the  dictates  of  boyish  vanity.  I  had  consider- 
able aversion  to  the  boisterous  gayety  of  the  village  gallants, 
and  contrived  to  satisfy  my  love  of  praise  with  an  unfre- 
quent  apparition  at  their  amusements.  My  excellence  in 
these  respects,  however,  gave  a  turn  to  my  meditations.  I 
delighted  to  read  of  feats  of  activity,  and  was  particularly 
interested  by  tales  in  which  corporeal  ingenuity  or  strength 
are  the  means  resorted  to  for  supplying  resources  and  con- 
quering difficulties.  I  inured  myself  to  mechanical  pursuits, 
and  devoted  much  of~my  time  to  an  endeavour  after 
mechanical  invention. 

The  spring  of  action  which,  perhaps  more  than  any  other, 
characterized  the  whole  train  of  my  life,  was  cj^rjojaity.  It 
was  this  that  gave  me  my  mechanical  turn;  I  was  desirous 
of  tracing  the  variety  of  effects  which  might  be  produced 
from  given  causes.  It  was  this  that  made  me  a  sort  of 
natural  philosopher;  I  could  not  rest  till  I  had  acquainted 
myself  with  the  solutions  that  had  been  invented  for  the 
phenomena  of  the  universe.  In  fine,  this  produced  in  me  an 
invincible  attachment  to  books  of  narrative  and  romance.  I 
panted  for  the  unravelling  of  an  adventure  with  an  anxiety 
perhaps  almost  equal  to  that  of  the  man  whose  future 
happiness  or  misery  depended  on  its  issue.  I  read,  I 
devoured  compositions  of  this  sort.  They  took  possession 
of  my  soul;  and  the  effects  they  produced  were  frequently 
discernible  in  my  external  appearance  and  my  health.  My 
curiosity,  however,  was  not  entirely  ignoble:  village  anec- 
dotes and  scandal  had  no  charms  for  me:  my  imagination 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  3 

must  be  excited ;  and  when  that  was  not  done,  my  curiosity 
was  dormant. 

The  residence  of  my  parents  was  within  the  manor  of 
Ferdinando  Falkland,  a  country  squire  of  considerable 
opulence.  At  an  early  age  I  attracted  the  favourable  notice 
of  Mr.  Collins,  this  gentleman's  steward,  who  used  to  call 
in  occasionally  at  my  father's.  He  observed  the  particulars 
of  my  progress  with  approbation,  and  made  a  favourable  re- 
port to  his  master  of  my  industry  and  genius. 

In  the  summer  of  the  year ,  Mr.  Falkland  visited  his 

estate  in  our  county  after  an  absence  of  several  months. 
This  was  a  period  of  misfortune  to  me.  I  was  then  eighteen 
years  of  age.  My  father  lay  dead  in  our  cottage.  I  had  lost 
my  mother  some  years  before.  In  this  forlorn  situation  I 
was  surprised  with  a  message  from  the  squire,  ordering  me 
to  repair  to  the  mansion-house  the  morning  after  my  father's 
funeral. 

Though  I  was  not  a  stranger  to  books,  I  had  no  practical 
acquaintance  with  men.    I  had  never  had  occasion  to  ad- 
dress a  person  of  this  elevated  rank,  and  I  felt  no  small  * 
uneasiness  and  awe  on  the  present  occasion.  fYlound  Mr. 
Falkland  a  man  of  small  stature,  with  an  extreme  delicacy 
of  form  and  appearance.  \  In  place  of  the  hard-favoured 
and  inflexible  visages  I  Ead  been  accustomed  to  observe, 
every  muscle  and  petty  line  of  his  countenance  seemed  to 
be  in  an  inconceivable  degree  pregnant  with  meaning.    His 
manner  was  kind,  attentive,  and  humane.     His  eye  was 
full  of  animation;  but  there  was  a  grave  and  sad  solemnity^ 
in  his  air,  which,  for  want  of  experience,  I  imagined  was  s 
the  inheritance  of  the  great,  and  the  instrument  by  which  ^> 
the  distance  between  them  and  their  inferiors  was  main-   ^> 
tained.     His  look  bespoke  the  unquietness  of   his   mind,  f 
and   frequently   wandered  with   an   expression   of   discon- 
solateness  and  anxiety. 

My  reception  was  as  gracious  and  encouraging  as  I 
could  possibly  desire.  Mr.  Falkland  questioned  me  re- 
specting  my  learning,   and   my   conceptions   of   men   and 


4  ADVENTURES  OF 

things,  and  listened  to  my  answers  with  condescension,  and 
approbation.  This  kindness  soon  restored  to  me  a  consid- 
erable part  of  my  self-possession,  though  I  still  felt  re- 
strained by  the  graceful,  but  unaltered  dignity  of  his  car- 
riage. When  Mr.  Falkland  had  satisfied  his  curiosity,  he 
proceeded  to  inform  me  that  he  was  in  want  of  a  secretary, 
that  I  appeared  to  him  sufficiently  qualified  for  that  office, 
and  that,  if,  in  my  present  change  of  situation,  occasioned 
by  the  death  of  my  father,  I  approved  of  the  employment, 
he  would  take  me  into  his  family. 

I  felt  highly  flattered  by  the  proposal,  and  was  warm 
in  the  expression  of  my  acknowledgments.  I  set  eagerly 
about  the  disposal  of  the  little  property  my  father  had 
left,  in  which  I  was  assisted  by  Mr.  Collins.  I  had  not  now 
a  relation  in  the  world  upon  whose  kindness  and  interposi- 
tion I  had  any  direct  claim.  But,  far  from  regarding  this 
deserted  situation  with  terror,  I  formed  golden  visions  of 
the  station  I  was  about  to  occupy.  I  little  suspected  that 
the  gayety  and  lightness  of  heart  I  had  hitherto  enjoyed 
were  upon  the  point  of  leaving  me  for  ever,  and  that  the 
rest  of  my  days  were  devoted  to  misery  and  alarm. 

My  employment  was  easy  and  agreeable.  It  consisted 
partly  in  the  transcribing  and  arranging  certain  papers,  and 
partly  in  writing  from  my  master's  dictation  letters  of 
business,  as  well  as  sketches  of  literary  composition.  Many 
of  these  latter  consisted  of  an  analytical  survey  of  the 
plans  of  different  authors  and  conjectural  speculations  upon 
hints  they  afforded,  tending  either  to  the  detection  of  their 
errors,  or  the  carrying  forward  their  discoveries.  All  of 
them  bore  powerful  marks  of  a  profound  and  elegant  mind, 
\  well  stored  with  literature,  and  possessed  of  an  uncommon 
\  share  of  activity  and  discrimination. 

My  station  was  in  that  part  of  the  house  which  was  ap- 
propriated for  the  reception  of  books,  it  being  my  duty  to 
perform  the  functions  of  librarian  as  well  as  secretary. 
Here  my  hours  would  have  glided  in  tranquillity  and  peace, 
had  not  my  situation  included  in  it  circumstances  totally 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  5 

different  from  those  which  attended  me  in  my  father's  cot- 
tage. In  early  life  my  mind  had  been  much  engrossed  by 
reading  and  reflection;  my  intercourse  with  my  fellow- 
mortals  was  occasional  and  short.  But,  in  my  new  residence, 
I  was  excited  by  every  motive  of  interest  and  novelty  to 
study  my  master's  character;  and  I  found  in  it  an  ample 
field  for  speculation  and  conjecture. 

His  mode  of  living  was  in  the  utmost  degree  recluse  and 
solitary.  He  had  no  inclination  to  scenes  of  revelry  and 
mirth.  He  avoided  the  busy  haunts  of  men;  nor  did  he 
seem  desirous  to  compensate  for  his  privation  by  the  con- 
fidence of  friendship.  He  appeared  a  total  stranger  to 
everything  which  usually  bears  the  appellation  of  pleasure. 
His  features  were  scarcely  ever  relaxed  into  a  smile,  nor 
did  that  air  which  spoke  the  unhappiness  of  his  mind  at  any 
time  forsake  them:  yet  his  manners  were  by  no  means 
such  as  denoted  moroseness  and  misanthropy.  He  was  com- 
passionate and  considerate  for  others,  though  the  stateliness 
of  his  carriage  and  the  reserve  of  his  temper  were  at  no 
time  interrupted.  His  appearance  and  general  behaviour 
might  have  strongly  interested  all  persons  in  his  favour: 
but  the  coldness  of  his  address,  and  the  impenetrableness 
of  his  sentiments,  seemed  to  forbid  those  demonstrations  of 
kindness  to  which  one  might  otherwise  have  been  prompted. 

Such  was  the  general  appearance  of  Mr.  Falkland:  but 
his  disposition  was  extremely  unequal.  The  distemper 
which  afflicted  him  with  incessant  gloom  had  its  paroxysms. 
Sometimes  he  was  hasty,  peevish,  and  tyrannical;  but  this 
proceeded  rather  from  the  torment  of  his  mind  than  an  un- 
feeling disposition;  and  when  reflection  recurred  he  ap- 
peared willing  that  the  weight  of  his  misfortune  should  fall 
wholly  upon  himself.  Sometimes  he  entirely  lost  his  self-  j 
possession,  and  his  behaviour  was  changed  into  phrensy:  he  \ 
would  strike  his  forehead,  his  brows  became  knit,  his  features 
distorted,  and  his  teeth  ground  one  against  the  other. 
When  he  felt  the  approach  of  these  symptoms,  he  would 
suddenly   rise,   and,   leaving   the  occupation,   whatever   it 


6  ADVENTURES  OF  \j 

was,  in  which  he  was  engaged,  hasten  into  a  solitude  upon 
which  no  person  dared  to  intrude. 

It  must  not  be  supposed  that  the  whole  of  what  I  am 
describing  was  visible  to  the  persons  about  him;  nor,  in- 
deed, was  I  acquainted  with  it  in  the  extent  here  stated 
but  after  a  considerable  time,  and  in  gradual  succession. 
With  respect  to  the  domestics  in  general,  they  saw  but 
little  of  their  master.  None  of  them,  except  myself,  from 
the  nature  of  my  functions,  and  Mr.  Collins,  from  the  an- 
tiquity of  his  service  and  the  respectableness  of  his  char- 
acter, approached  Mr.  Falkland  but  at  stated  seasons  and 
for  a  very  short  interval.  They  knew  him  only  by  the 
benevolence  of  his  actions,  and  the  principles  of  inflexible 
integrity  by  which  he  was  ordinarily  guided;  and  though 
they  would  sometimes  indulge  their  conjectures  respecting 
his  singularities,  they  regarded  him  upon  the  whole  with 
veneration,  as  a  being  of  a  superior  order. 

One  day,  when  I  had  been  about  three  months  in  the 
service  of  my  patron,  I  went  to  a  closet,  or  small  apart- 
ment which  was  separated  from  the  library  by  a  narrow 
gallery  that  was  lighted  by  a  small  window  near  the  roof. 
I  had  conceived  that  there  was  no  person  in  the  room,  and 
intended  only  to  put  anything  in  order  that  I  might 
find  out  of  its  place.  As  I  opened  the  door,  I  heard  at  the 
same  instant  a  deep  groan,  expressive  of  intolerable  anguish. 
The  sound  of  the  door  in  opening  seemed  to  alarm  the 
person  within;  I  heard  the  lid  of  a  trunk  hastily  shut,  and 
the  noise  as  of  fastening  a  lock.  I  conceived  that  Mr.  Falk- 
land was  there,  and  was  going  instantly  to  retire;  but  at 
that  moment  a  voice,  that  seemed  supernaturally  tremen- 
dous, exclaimed,  "Who  is  there?"  The  voice  was  Mr.  Falk- 
land's. The  sound  of  it  thrilled  my  very  vitals.  I  endeav- 
oured to  answer,  but  my  speech  failed,  and  being  incapable 
of  any  other  reply,  I  instinctively  advanced  within  the  door 
into  the  room.  Mr.  Falkland  was  just  risen  from  the 
floor  upon  which  he  had  been  sitting  or  kneeling.  His  face 
betrayed  strong  symptoms  of  confusion.     With  a  violent 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  7 

effort,  however,  these  symptoms  vanished,  and  instantane- 
ously gave  place  to  a  countenance  sparkling  with  rage. 
"Villain!"  cried  he,  "what  has  brought  you  here?"  I  hesi- 
tated a  confused  and  irresolute  answer.  "Wretch!"  inter- 
rupted Mr.  Falkland,  with  uncontrollable  impatience,  "you 
want  to  ruin  me.  You  set  yourself  as  a  spy  upon  my  ac- 
tions; but  bitterly  shall  you  repent  your  insolence.  Do 
you  think  you  shall  watch  my  privacies  with  impunity?" 
I  attempted  to  defend  myself.  "Begone,  devil!"  rejoined 
he.  "Quit  the  room,  or  I  will  trample  you  into  atoms."' 
Saying  this,  he  advanced  towards  me.  But  I  was  already 
sufficiently  terrified,  and  vanished  in  a  moment.  I  heard 
the  door  shut  after  me  with  violence;  and  thus  ended  this 
extraordinary  scene. 

I  saw  him  again  in  the  evening,  and  he  was  then  tolerably 
composed.  His  behaviour,  which  was  always  kind,  was  now 
doubly  attentive  and  soothing.  He  seemed  to  have  some- 
thing of  which  he  wished  to  disburthen  his  mind,  but  to 
want  words  in  which  to  convey  it.  I  looked  at  him  with 
anxiety  and  affection.  He  made  two  unsuccessful  efforts, 
shook  his  head,  and  then  putting  five  guineas  into  my 
hand,  pressed  it  in  a  manner  that  I  could  feel  proceeded 
from  a  mind  pregnant  with  various  emotions,  though  I  could 
not  interpret  them.  Having  done  this,  he  seemed  imme- 
diately to  recollect  himself,  and  to  take  refuge  in  the  usual 
distance  and  solemnity  of  his  manner. 

I  easily  understood  that  secrecy  was  one  of  the  things 
expected  from  me;  and,  indeed,  my  mind  was  too  much 
disposed  to  meditate  upon  what  I  had  heard  and  seen,  to 
make  it  a  topic  of  indiscriminate  communication.  Mr. 
Collins,  however,  and  myself  happened  to  sup  together 
that  evening,  which  was  but  seldom  the  case,  his  avoca- 
tions obliging  him  to  be  much  abroad.  He  could  not  help 
observing  an  uncommon  dejection  and  anxiety  in  my  counte- 
nance, and  affectionately  inquired  into  the  reason.  I  en- 
deavoured to  evade  his  questions,  but  my  youth  and  igno- 
rance of  the  world  gave  me  little  advantage  for  that  purpose. 


8  ADVENTURES  OF 

Besides  this,  I  had  been  accustomed  to  view  Mr.  Collins 
with  considerable  attachment,  and  I  conceived  from  the 
nature  of  his  situation  that  there  could  be  small  impropriety 
in  making  him  my  confidant  in  the  present  instance.  I  re- 
peated to  him  minutely  everything  that  had  passed,  and 
concluded  with  a  solemn  declaration,  that,  though  treated 
with  caprice,  I  was  not  anxious  for  mysdfjnp  inconvenience 
or  danger  should  ever  lead  me  to  a  puslflaiurnoBs  behaviour ; 
and  I  felt  only  for  my  patron,  who,  with  every  advantage 
for  happiness,  and  being  in  the  highest  degree  worthy  of  it, 
seemed  destined  to  undergo  unmerited  distress. 

In  answer  to  my  communication,  Mr.  Collins  informed  me 
that  some  incidents,  of  a  nature  similar  to  that  which  I 
related,  had  fallen  under  his  own  knowledge,  and  that  from 
the  whole  he  could  not  help  concluding  that  our  unfortunate 
\ patron  was  at  times  disordered  in  his  intellects.  "Alas!" 
continued  he,  "it  was  not  always  thus!  Ferdinando  Falk- 
land was  once  the  gayest  of  the  gay.  Not  indeed  of  that 
frothy  sort  who  excite  contempt  instead  of  admiration,  and 
whose  levity  argues  thoughtlessness  rather  than  felicity. 
His  gayety  was  always  accompanied  with  dignity.  It  was 
the  gayety  of  the  hero  and  the  scholar.  It  was  chastened 
with  reflection  and  sensibility,  and  never  lost  sight  either 
of  good  taste  or  humanity.  Such  as  it  was,  however,  it. 
denoted  a  genuine  hilarity  of  heart,  imparted  an  inconceiv- 
able brilliancy  to  his  company  and  conversation,  and  ren- 
dered him  the  perpetual  delight  of  the  diversified  circles  he 
then  willingly  frequented.  You  see  nothing  of  him,  my 
^  dear  Williams,  but  the  ruin  of  that  Falkland  who  was 
courted  by  sages  and  adored  by  the  fair.  His  youth,  dis- 
tinguished in  its  outset  by  the  most  unusual  promise,  is 
tarnished.  His  sensibility  is  shrunk  up  and  withered  by 
events  the  most  disgustful  to  his  feelings.  His  mind  was 
fraught  with  all  the  rhapsodies  of  visionary  honour ;  and,  in 
his  sense,  nothing  but  the  grosser  part,  the  mere  shell  of 
Falkland,  was  capable  of  surviving  the  wound  that  his 
pride  has  sustained." 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  9 

These  reflections  of  my  friend  Collins  strongly  tended 
to  inflame  my  curiosity,  and  I  requested  him  to  enter 
into  a  more  copious  explanation.  With  this  request  he 
readily  complied;  as  conceiving  that  whatever  delicacy  it 
became  him  to  exercise  in  ordinary  cases,  it  would  be  out  of 
place  in  my  situation;  and  thinking  it  not  improbable  that 
Mr.  Falkland,  but  for  the  disturbance  and  inflammation  of 
his  mind,  would  be  disposed  to  a  similar  communication 
I  shall  interweave  with  Mr.  Collins's  story  various  informa- 
tion which  I  afterward  received  from  other  quarters,  that 
I  may  give  all  possible  perspicuity  to  the  series  of  events. 
To  avoid  confusion  in  my  narrative,  I  shall  drop  the  person 
of  Collins,  and  assume  to  be  myself  the  historian  of  our  ) 
patron.  To  the  reader  it  may  appear  at  first  sight  as  if 
this  detail  of  the  preceding  life  of  Mr.  Falkland  were 
foreign  to  my  history.  Alas!  I  know  from  bitter  expe- 
rience that  it  is  otherwise.  My  heart  bleeds  at  the  recollec- 
tion of  his  misfortunes,  as  if  they  were  my  own.  How  can 
it  fail  to  do  so?  To  his  story  the  whole  fortune  of  my 
life  was  linked;  because  he  was  miserable,  my  happiness, 
my  name,  and  my  existence  have  been  irretrievably  blasted. 


CHAPTER  TWO 

AMONG  the  favourite  authors  of  his  early  years  were 
the  heroic  poets  of  Italy.  From  them  he  imbibed 
-  the  love  of  chivalry  and  romance.  He  had  too 
much  good  sense  to  regret  the  times  of  Charlemagne  and 
Arthur.  But  while  his  imagination  was  purged  by  a 
certain  infusion  of  philosophy,  he  conceived  that  there 
was  in  the  manners  depicted  by  these  celebrated  poets 
something  to  imitate,  as  well  as  something  to  avoid.  He 
believed  that  nothing  was  so  well  calculated  to  make  men 
delicate,  gallant,  and  humane,  as  a  temper  perpetually 
alive  to  the  sentiments  of  birth  and  honour.  The  opinions 
he  entertained  upon  these  topics  were  illustrated  in  his 
conduct,  which  was  assiduously  conformed  to  the  model  of 
heroism  that  his  fancy  suggested. 

With  these  sentiments  he  set  out  upon  his  travels,  at 
the  age  at  which  the  grand  tour  is  usually  made;  and  they 
were  rather  confirmed  than  shaken  by  the  adventures  that 
befell  him.  By  inclination  he  was  led  to  make  his  longest 
stay  in  Italy;  and  here  he  fell  into  company  with  several 
young  noblemen  whose  studies  and  principles  were  con- 
genial to  his  own.  By  them  he  was  assiduously  courted, 
and  treated  with  the  most  distinguished  applause.  They 
were  delighted  to  meet  with  a  foreigner  who  had  imbibed 
all  the  peculiarities  of  the  most  liberal  and  honourable 
among  themselves.  Nor  was  he  less  favoured  and  admired 
by  the  softer  sex.  Though  his  stature  was  small,  his  per- 
son had  an  air  of  uncommon  dignity.  His  dignity  was  then 
heightened  by  certain  additions  which  were  afterward 
obliterated, — an  expression  of  frankness,  ingenuity,  and 
unreserve,  and  a   spirit  of   the  most  ardent   enthusiasm. 

10 


\ 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  n 

Perhaps  no  Englishman  was  ever  in  an  equal  degree  idolized 
by  the  inhabitants  of  Italy. 

It  was  not  possible  for  him  to  have  drunk  so  deeply  of 
the  fountain  of  chivalry  without  being  engaged  occasionally 
in  affairs  of  honour,  all  of  which  were  terminated  in  a 
manner  that  would  not  have  disgraced  the  Chevalier  Bayard 
himself.  In  Italy,  the  young  men  of  rank  divide  them- 
selves into  two  classes, — those  who  adhere  to  the  pure 
principles  of  ancient  gallantry,  and  those  who,  being  actu- 
ated by  the  same  acute  sense  of  injury  and  insult,  accustom 
themselves  to  the  employment  of  hired  bravoes  as  their  in- 
struments of  vengeance.  The  whole  difference,  indeed,  con- 
sists in  the  precarious  application  of  a  generally  received 
distinction.  The  most  generous  Italian  conceives  that  there 
are  certain  persons  whom  it  would  be  contamination  for  him 
to  call  into  the  open  field.  He  nevertheless  believes  that 
an  indignity  cannot  be  expiated  but  with  blood,  and  is 
persuaded  that  the  life  of  a  man  is  a  trifling  considera- 
tion, in  comparison  of  the  indemnification  to  be  made  to 
his  injured  honour.  There  is,  therefore,  scarcely  any  Italian 
that  would  upon  some  occasions  scruple  assassination.  Men 
of  spirit  among  them,  notwithstanding  the  prejudices  of. 
their  education,  cannot  fail  to  have  a  secret  conviction  of  its 
baseness,  and  will  be  desirous  of  extending  as  far  as  possi-, 
ble  the  cartel  of  honour.  Real  or  affected  arrogance  teachesv 
others  to  regard  almost  the  whole  species  as  their  inferiors, 
,  and  of  consequence  incites  them  to  gratify  their  vengeance 
without  danger  to  their  persons.  Mr.  Falkland  met  wit! 
some  of  these.  But  his  undaunted  spirit  and  resolute  temper 
gave  him  a  decisive  advantage  even  in  such  perilous  ren- 
counters. One  instance,  among  many,  of  his  manner  of  con- 
ducting himself  among  this  proud  and  high-spirited  people 
it  may  be  proper  to  relate.  Mr.  Falkland  is  the  principal 
agent  in  my  history;  and  Mr.  Falkland  in  the  autumn  and 
decay  of  his  vigour,  such  as  I  found  him,  cannot  be  com- 
pletely understood  without  a  knowledge  of  his  previous 
character,  as  it  was  in  all  the  gloss  of  youth,  yet  unassailed 


V  C) 


I2     v* ^— >       ADVENTURES  OF 


by  adversity^andjHib^^ 

^— -Ai  RunTe  he  wasreceived  with  particular  distinction^  at 
the  house  of  Marquis  Pisani,  who  had  an  only  daughter, 
the  heiress  of  his  immense  fortune,  and  the  admiration  of 
all  the  young  nobility  of  that  metropolis.  Lady  Lucretia 
Pisani  was  tall,  of  a  dignified  form,  and  uncommonly 
beautiful.  She  was  not  deficient  in  amiable  qualities,  but 
her  soul  was  haughty,  and  her  carriage  not  unfrequently 
contemptuous.  Her  pride  was  nourished  by  the  conscious- 
ness of  her  charms,  by  her  elevated  rank,  and  the  universal 
adoration  she  was  accustomed  to  receive. 

Among  her  numerous  lovers,  Count  Malvesi  was  the  in- 
dividual most  favoured  by  her  father,  nor  did  his  addresses 
seem  indifferent  to  her.    The  count  was  a  man  of  consid- 
erable accomplishments,  and  of  great  integrity  and  benevo- 
lence of  disposition.    But  he  was  too  ardent  a  lover  to  be 
able  always  to  preserve  the  affability  of  his  temper.    The 
admirers  whose  addresses  were  a  source  of  gratification  to 
his  mistress,  were  a  perpetual  uneasiness  to  him.    Placing  his 
whole  happiness  in  the  possession  of  this  imperious  beauty, 
the  most  trifling  circumstances  were  capable  of  alarming  him 
for  the  security  of  his  pretensions.    But  most  of  all  he  was 
jealous  of  the  English  cavalier.    Marquis  Pisani,  who  had 
spent  many  years  in  France,  was  by  no  means  partial  to 
the  suspicious  precautions  of  Italian  fathers,  and  indulged 
his   daughter   in   considerable    freedoms.     His   house   and 
his  daughter,  within  certain  judicious  restraints,  were  open 
to  the  resort  of  male  visitants.    But,  above  all,  Mr.  Falk- 
land, as  a  foreigner,  and  a  person  little  likely  to  form 
pretensions  to  the  hand  of  Lucretia,  was  received  upon  a 
footing  of  great  familiarity.    The  lady  herself,  conscious  of 
innocence,  entertained  no  scruple  about  trifles,  and  acted 
with  the  confidence  and  frankness  of  one  who  is  superior  to 
suspicion. 

Mr.  Falkland,  after  a  residence  of  several  weeks  at  Rome, 
proceeded  to  Naples.  Meanwhile,  certain  incidents  occurred 
that  delayed  the  intended  nuptials  of  the  heiress  of  Pisani. 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  13 

When  he  returned  to  Rome,  Count  Malvesi  was  absent. 
Lady  Lucretia,  who  had  been  considerably  amused  before 
with  the  conversation  of  Mr.  Falkland,  and  who  had  an  ac- 
tive and  inquiring  mind,  had  conceived,  in  the  interval 
between  his  first  and  second  residence  at  Rome,  a  desire 
to  be  acquainted  with  the  English  language,  inspired  by  the 
lively  and  ardent  encomiums  of  our  best  authors  that  she 
had  heard  from  their  countryman.  She  had  provided  herself 
with  the  usual  materials  for  that  purpose,  and  had  made 
some  progress  during  his  absence.  But  upon  his  return  she 
was  forward  to  make  use  of  the  opportunity,  which,  if 
missed,  might  never  occur  again  with  equal  advantage,  of 
reading  select  passages  of  our  poets  with  an  Englishman  of 
uncommon  taste  and  capacity. 

This  proposal  necessarily  led  to  a  more  frequent  inter- 
course. When  Count  Malvesi  returned,  he  found  Mr. 
Falkland  established  almost  as  an  inmate  of  the  Pisani 
palace.  His  mind  could  not  fail  to  be  struck  with  the 
criticalness  of  the  situation.  He  was  perhaps  secretly  con- 
scious that  the  qualifications  of  the  Englishman  were  supe- 
rior to  his  own;  and  he  trembled  for  the  progress  that  each 
party  might  have  made  in  the  affection  of  the  other,  even 
before  they  were  aware  of  the  danger.  He  believed  that 
the  match  was  in  every  respect  such  as  to  flatter  the  ambi- 
tion of  Mr.  Falkland ;  and  he  was  stung  even  to  madness  by 
the  idea  of  being  deprived  of  the  object  dearest  to  his  heart 
by  this  tramontane  upstart. 

He  had,  however,  sufficient  discretion  first  to  demand  an 
explanation  of  Lady  Lucretia.  She,  in  the  gayety  of  her 
heart,  trifled  with  his  anxiety.  His  patience  was  already 
exhausted,  and  he  proceeded  in  his  expostulation,  in  language 
that  she  was  by  no  means  prepared  to  endure  with  apathy. 
Lady  Lucretia  had  always  been  accustomed  to  deference 
and  submission;  and,  having  got  over  something  like  terror, 
that  was  at  first  inspired  by  the  imperious  manner  in  which 
she  was  now  catechised,  her  next  feeling  was  that  of  the 
warmest  resentment.    She  disdained  to  satisfy  so  insolent  a 


14  ADVENTURES  OF 

questioner,  and  even  indulged  herself  in  certain  oblique  hints 
calculated  to  strengthen  his  suspicions.  For  some  time  she 
described  his  folly  and  presumption  in  terms  of  the  most 
ludicrous  sarcasm,  and  then,  suddenly  changing  her  style, 
bade  him  never  let  her  see  him  more  except  upon  the  footing 
of  the  most  distant  acquaintance,  as  she  was  determined 
never  again  to  subject  herself  to  so  unworthy  a  treatment. 
She  was  happy  that  he  had  at  length  disclosed  to  her  his  true 
character,  and  would  know  how  to  profit  of  her  present  ex- 
perience to  avoid  a  repetition  of  the  same  danger.  All  this 
passed  in  the  full  career  of  passion  on  both  sides,  and  Lady 
Lucretia  had  no  time  to  reflect  upon  what  might  be  the  con- 
sequence of  thus  exasperating  her  lover. 

Count  Malvesi  left  her  in  all  the  torments  of  phrensy. 
He  believed  that  this  was  a  premeditated  scene,  to  find  a 
pretence  for  breaking  off  an  engagement  that  was  already  all 
but  concluded;  or,  rather,  his  mind  was  racked  with  a 
thousand  conjectures:  he  alternately  thought  that  the  in- 
justice might  be  hers  or  his  own;  and  he  quarrelled  with 
Lady  Lucretia,  himself,  and  the  whole  world.  In  this  temper 
he  hastened  to  the  hotel  of  the  EnglishLcayaHer*  The  sea- 
son of  expostulation  was  now  over,  and  he  found  himself 
irresistibly  impelled  to  justify  his  precipitation  with  the 
lady,  by  taking  for  granted  that  the  subject  of  his  suspi- 
cion was  beyond  the  reach  of  doubt. 

Mr.  Falkland  was  at  home.  The  first  words  of  the  count 
were  an  abrupt  accusation  of  duplicity  in  the  affair  of 
Lady  Lucretia,  and  a  challenge.  The  Englishman  had  an 
unaffected  esteem  for  Malvesi,  who  was  in  reality  a  man  of 
considerable  merit,  and  who  had  been  one  of  Mr.  Falkland's 
earliest  Italian  acquaintance,  they  having  orginally  met  at 
Milan.  But,  more  than  this,  the  possible  consequence  of 
a  duel  in  the  present  instance  burst  upon  his  mind.  He 
had  the  warmest  admiration  for  Lady  Lucretia,  though  his 
feelings  were  not  those  of  a  lover;  and  he  knew  that,  how- 
ever her  haughtiness  might  endeavour  to  disguise  it,  she  was 
impressed  with  a  tender  regard  for  Count  Malvesi.     He 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  15 

could  not  bear  to  think  that  any  misconduct  of  his  should 
interrupt  the  prospects  of  so  deserving  a  pair.  Guided  by  1 
these  sentiments,  he  endeavoured  to  expostulate  with  the 
Italian.  But  his  attempts  were  ineffectual.  His  antagonist 
was  drunk  with  choler,  and  would  not  listen  to  a  word  that 
tended  to  check  the  impetuosity  of  his  thoughts.  He 
traversed  the  room  with  perturbed  steps,  and  even  foamed 
with  anguish  and  fury.  Mr.  Falkland,  finding  that  all 
was  to  no  purpose,  told  the  count  that,  if  he  would  return 
to-morrow  at  the  same  hour,  he  would  attend  him  to  any  \ 
scene  of  action  he  should  think  proper  to  select. 

From  Count  Malvesi  Mr.  Falkland  immediately  proceeded 
to  the  palace  of  Pisani.  Here  he  found  considerable  diffi- 
culty in  appeasing  the  indignation  of  Lady  Lucretia.  His 
ideas  of  honour  would  by  no  means  allow  him  to  win  her  to 
his  purpose  by  disclosing  the  cartel  he  had  received;  other- 
wise that  disclosure  would  immediately  have  operated  as 
the  strongest  motive  that  could  have  been  offered  to  this 
disdainful  beauty.  But,  though  she  dreaded  such  an  event, 
the  vague  apprehension  was  not  strong  enough  to  induce 
her  instantly  to  surrender  all  the  stateliness  of  her  resent- 
ment. Mr.  Falkland,  however,  drew  so  interesting  a  pic- 
ture of  the  disturbance  of  Count  Malvesi's  mind,  and  ac- 
counted in  so  flattering  a  manner  for  the  abruptness  of  his 
conduct,  that  this,  together  with  the  arguments  he  adduced, 
completed  the  conquest  of  Lady  Lucretia's  resentment. 
Having  thus  far  accomplished  his  purpose,  he  proceeded  to 
disclose  to  her  everything  that  had  passed. 

The  next  day  Count  Malvesi  appeared,  punctual  to  his 
appointment,  at  Mr.  Falkland's  hotel.  Mr.  Falkland  came 
to  the  door  to  receive  him,  but  requested  him  to  enter  the 
house  for  a  moment,  as  he  had  still  an  affair  of  three  minutes 
to  despatch.  They  proceeded  to  a  parlour.  Here  Mr. 
Falkland  left  him,  and  presently  returned  leading  in  Lady 
Lucretia  herself,  adorned  in  all  her  charms,  and  those  charms 
heightened  upon  the  present  occasion  by  a  consciousness  of 
the  spirited  and  generous  condescension  she  was  exerting. 


1 6  ADVENTURES  OF 

Mr.  Falkland  led  her  up  to  the  astonished  count;  and  she, 
gently  laying  her  hand  upon  the  arm  of  her  lover,  exclaimed 
with  the  most  attractive  grace,  "Will  you  allow  me  to  retract 
the  precipitate  haughtiness  into  which  I  was  betrayed  ?" 
The  enraptured  count,  scarcely  able  to  believe  his  senses, 
threw  himself  upon  his  knees  before  her,  and  stammered 
out  his  reply,  signifying  that  the  precipitation  had  been  all 
his  own,  that  he  only  had  any  forgiveness  to  demand,  and, 
though  they  might  pardon,  he  could  never  pardon  himself 
for  the  sacrilege  he  had  committed  against  her  and  this 
godlike  Englishman.  As  soon  as  the  first  tumults  of  his  joy 
had  subsided,  Mr.  Falkland  addressed  him  thus: — 

"Count  Malvesi,  I  feel  the  utmost  pleasure  in  having  thus 
by  peaceful  means  disarmed  your  resentment,  and  effected 
your  happiness.  But  I  must  confess,  you  put  me  to  a  severe 
trial.  My  temper  is  not  less  impetuous  and  fiery  than 
your  own,  and  it  is  not  at  all  times  that  I  should  have 
been  thus  able  to  subdue  it.  But  I  considered  that  in 
reality  the  original  blame  was  mine.  Though  your  suspi- 
cion was  groundless,  it  was  not  absurd.  We  have  been 
trifling  too  much  in  the  face  of  danger.  I  ought  not,  under 
the  present  weakness  of  our  nature  and  forms  of  society,  to 
have  been  so  assiduous  in  my  attendance  upon  this  en- 
chanting woman.  It  would  have  been  little  wonder,  if, 
having  so  many  opportunities,  and  playing  the  preceptor 
with  her  as  I  have  done,  I  had  been  entangled  before  I  was 
aware,  and  harboured  a  wish  which  I  might  not  afterward 
have  had  courage  to  subdue.  I  owed  you  an  atonement 
for  this  imprudence. 

"But  the  laws  of  honour  are  in  the  utmost  degree  rigid; 
and  there  was  reason  to  fear  that,  however  anxious  I 
were  to  be  your  friend,  I  might  be  obliged  to  be  your 
murderer.  Fortunately,  the  reputation  of  my  courage  is 
sufficiently  established,  not  to  expose  it  to  any  impeachment 
by  my  declining  your  present  defiance.  It  was  lucky,  how- 
ever, that  in  our  interview  of  yesterday  you  found  me 
alone,  and  that  accident  by  that  means  threw  the  manage- 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  17 

ment  of  the  affair  into  my  disposal.  If  the  transaction 
should  become  known,  the  conclusion  will  now  become 
known  along  with  the  provocation,  and  I  am  satisfied.  But 
if  the  challenge  had  been  public,  the  proofs  I  had  formerly 
given  of  courage  would  not  have  excused  my  present  modera- 
tion; and,  though  desirous  to  have  avoided  the  combat,  it 
would  not  have  been  in  my  power.  Let  us  hence,  each  ot 
us,  learn  to  avoid  haste  and  indiscretion,  the  consequences 
of  which  may  be  ^inexpiable  but  with  blood;  and  may 
Heaven  bless  you  in  a  consort  of  whom  I  deem  you  every 
way  worthy!" 

I  have  already  said  that  this  was  by  no  means  the  only 
instance,  in  the  course  of  his  travels,  in  which  Mr.  Falk- 
land acquitted  himself  in  the  most  brilliant  manner  as  a 
man  of  gallantry  and  virtue.  He  continued  abroad  dur- 
ing several  years,  every  one  of  which  brought  some  fresh 
accession  to  the  estimation  in  which  he  was  held,  as  well 
as  to  his  own  impatience  of  stain  or  dishonour.  At  length 
he  thought  proper  to  return  to  England,  with  the  intention 
of  spending  the  rest  of  his  days  at  the  residence  of  his 
ancestors. 


CHAPTER  THREE 

FROM  the  moment  he  entered  upon  the  execution  of 
this  purpose,  dictated,  as  it  probably  was,  by  an  un- 
affected principle  of  duty,  his  misfortunes  took  their 
commencement.  All  I  have  further  to  state  of  his  history 
is  the  uninterrupted  persecution  of  a  malignant  destiny,  a 
series  of  adventures  that  seemed  to  take  their  rise  in 
various  accidents,  but  pointing  to  one  termination.  Him 
they  overwhelmed  with  an  anguish  he  was  of  all  others  least 
qualified  to  bear;  and  these  waters  of  bitterness,  extending 
beyond  him,  poured  their  deadly  venom  upon  others,  I 
being  myself  the  most  unfortunate  of  their  victims. 

The  person  in  whom  these  calamities  originated  was  Mr. 
Falkland's  nearest  neighbour,  a  man  of  estate  equal  to  his 
own,  by  name  Barnabas_Xyrrel.  This  man  one  might  at 
first  have  supposed  of  all  others  least  qualified  from  in- 
struction, or  inclined  by  the  habits  of  his  life,  to  disturb 
the  enjoyments  of  a  mind  so  richly  endowed  as  that  of  Mr. 
Falkland.  Mr.  Tyrrel  might  have  passed  for  a  true  model 
of  the  English  squire.  He  was  early  left  under  the  tuition 
of  his  mother,  a  woman  of  narrow  capacity,  and  who  had  no 
other  child.  The  only  .remaining  member  of  the  family  it 
may  be  necessary  to  notice  was  Miss  Emily  Melville,  the 
orphan  daughter  of  Mr.  Tyrrel's  paternal  aunt;  who  now 
resided  in  the  family  mansion,  and  was  wholly  dependent 
on  the  benevolence  of  its  proprietors. 

Mrs.  Tyrrel  appeared  to  think  that  there  was  nothing  in 
the  world  so  precious  as  her  hopeful  Barnabas.  Every- 
thing must  give  way  to  his  accommodation  and  advantage; 
every  one  must  yield  the  most  servile  obedience  to  his 
commands.  He  must  not  be  teased  or  restricted  by  any 
forms  of  instruction;   and  of  consequence  his  proficiency, 

18 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  19 

even  in  the  arts  of  writing  and  reading,  was  extremely 
slender.  From  his  birth  he  was  muscular  and  sturdy;  and, 
confined  to  the  ruelle  of  his  mother,  he  made  much  such  a 
figure  as  the  whelp-lion  that  a  barbarian  might  have  given 
for  a  lapdog  to  his  mistress. 

But  he  soon  broke  loose  from  these  trammels,  and  formed 
an  acquaintance  with  the  groom  and  the  gamekeeper. 
Under  their  instruction  he  proved  as  ready  a  scholar,  as 
he  had  been  indocile  and  restive  to  the  pedant  who  held  the 
office  of  his  tutor.  It  was  now  evident  that  his  small  pro- 
ficiency in  literature  was  by  no  means  to  be  ascribed  to 
want  of  capacity.  He  discovered  no  contemptible  sagacity 
and  quick-wittedness  in  the  science  of  horseflesh,  and  was 
eminently  expert  in  the  arts  of  shooting,  fishing,  and  hunt- 
ing. Nor  did  he  confine  himself  to  these,  but  added  the 
theory  and  practice  of  boxing,  cudgel  play,  and  quarter- 
staff.  These  exercises  added  tenfold  robustness  and  vigour 
to  his  former  qualifications. 

His  stature,  when  grown,  was  somewhat  more  than  five 
feet  ten  inches  in  height,  and  his  form  might  have  been 
selected  by  a  painter  as  a  model  for  that  hero  of  antiquity 
whose  prowess  consisted  in  felling  an  ox  with  his  fist,  and 
devouring  him  at  a  meal.  Conscious  of  his  advantage  in  this 
respect,  he  was  insupportably  arrogant,  tyrannical  to  his 
inferior^,1  an4  HISOfSnT  Lo  his  equals.  The  activity  of  his 
mind  being  diverted  from  the  genuine  field  of  utility  and 
distinction,  showed  itself  in  the  rude  tricks  of  an  overgrown 
lubber.  Here,  as  in  all  his  other  qualifications,  he  rose 
above  his  competitors;  and  if  it  had  been  possible  to  over- 
look the  callous  and  unrelenting  disposition  which  they 
manifested,  one  could  scarcely  have  denied  his  applause  to 
the  invention  these  freaks  displayed,  and  the  rough,  sarcastic 
wit  with  which  they  were  accompanied. 

Mr.  Tyrrel  was  by  no  means  inclined  to  permit  these 
extraordinary  merits  to  rust  in  oblivion.  There  was  a 
weekly  assembly  at  the  nearest  market-town,  the  resort  of 
all  the  rural  gentry.     Here  he  had  hitherto  figured  to  the 


20  ADVENTURES  OF 

greatest  advantage  as  grand-master  of  the  coterie,  no  one 
having  an  equal  share  of  opulence,  and  the  majority,  though 
still  pretending  to  the  rank  of  gentry,  greatly  his  inferior 
in  this  essential  article.  The  young  men  in  this  circle 
looked  up  to  this  insolent  bashaw  with  timid  respect,  con- 
scious of  the  comparative  eminence  that  unquestionably  be- 
longed to  the  powers  of  his  mind;  and  he  well  knew  how 
to  maintain  his  rank  with  an  inflexible  hand.  Frequently 
indeed  he  relaxed  his  features,  and  assumed  a  temporary 
appearance  of  affableness  and  familiarity;  but  they  found 
by  experience  that  if  any  one,  encouraged  by  his  condescen- 
sion, forgot  the  deference  which  Mr.  Tyrrel  considered  as 
his  due,  he  was  soon  taught  to  repent  his  presumption.  It 
was  a  tiger  that,  thought  proper  to  toy  with  a  mouse,  the 
little  animal"every  moment  in  danger  of  being  crushed  by 
the  fangs  of  his  ferocious  associate.  As  Mr.  Tyrrel  had 
considerable  copiousness  of  speech,  and  a  rich,  but  undisci- 
plined imagination,  he  was  always  sure  of  an  audience. 
His  neighbours  crowded  round,  and  joined  in  the  ready 
laugh,  partly  from  obsequiousness,  and  partly  from  un- 
feigned admiration.  It  frequently  happened,  however,  that 
in  the  midst  of  his  good-humour,  a  characteristic  refine- 
ment of  tyranny  would  suggest  itself  to  his  mind.  When 
his  subjects,  encouraged  by  his  familiarity,  had  discarded 
their  precaution,  the  wayward  fit  would  seize  him,  a  sudden 
cloud  overspread  his  brow,  his  voice  transform  from  the 
pleasant  to  the  terrible,  and  a  quarrel  of  a  straw  immedi- 
ately ensue  with  the  first  man  whose  face  he  did  not  like. 
The  pleasure  that  resulted  to  others  from  the  exuberant  sal- 
lies of  his  imagination  was,  therefore,  not  unalloyed  with 
sudden  qualms  of  apprehension  and  terror.  It  may  be  be- 
lieved that  this  despotism  did  not  gain  its  final  ascendency 
without  being  contested  in  the  outset.  But  all  opposition 
was  quelled  with  a  high  hand  by  this  rural  Antaeus.  By 
the  ascendency  of  his  fortune  and  his  character  among  his 
neighbours,  he  always  reduced  his  adversary  to  the  necessity 
of  encountering  him  at  his  own  weapons,  and  did  not  dis- 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  21 

miss  him  without  making  him  feel  his  presumption  through 
every  joint  in  his  frame.  The  tyranny  of  Mr.  Tyrrel  would 
not  have  been  so  patiently  endured,  had  not  hin  rollQqirJa] 
accomgiislurients  perpetually  come  jnjiid  of  that  authority 
SSdaich  ^ic;  rar|k  ar>"  pr^^  nr,,g1na1]y  obtained. 

The  situation  of  our  squire  with  the  fair  was  still  more 
enviable  than  that  which  he  maintained  among  persons  of 
his  own  sex.  Every  mother  taught  her  daughter  to  con- 
sider the  hand  of  Mr.  Tyrrel  as  the  highest  object  of  her 
ambition.  Every  daughter  regarded  his  athletic  form  and 
his  acknowledged  prowess  with  a  favourable  eye.  A  form 
eminently  athletic  is,  perhaps,  always  well-proportioned ;  and 
one  of  the  qualifications  that  women  are  early  taught  to 
look  for  in  the  male  sex  is  that  of  a  protector.  As  no  man 
was  adventurous  enough  to  contest  his  superiority,  so 
scarcely  any  woman  in  this  provincial  circle  would  have 
scrupled  to  prefer  his  addresses  to  those  of  any  other  ad- 
mirer. His  boisterous  wit  had  peculiar  charms  for  them; 
and  there  was  no  spectacle  more  flattering  to  their  vanity, 
than  seeing  this  Hercules  exchange  his  club  for  a  distaff. 
It  was  pleasing  to  them  to  consider,  that  the  fangs  of  this 
wild  beast,  the  very  idea  of  which  inspired  trepidation  into 
the  boldest  hearts,  might  be  played  with  by  them  with  the 
utmost  security. 

Such  was  the  rival  that  Fortune^  in  her  caprice,  had  re- 
served for  the  accomplished  Falkland.  This  untamed, 
though  not  undiscerning  brute,  was  found  capable  of 
destroying  the  prospects  of  a  man  the  most  eminently  quali- 
fied to  enjoy  and  to  communicate  happiness.  The  feud  that 
sprung  up  between  them  was  nourished  by  concurring  cir- 
cumstances, till  it  attained  a  magnitude  difficult  to  be 
paralleled;  and,  because  they  regarded  each  other  with  a 
deadly  hatred,  I  have  become  an  object  of  misery  and 
abhorrence. 

The  arrival  of  Mr.  Falkland  gave  an  alarming  shock  to 
the  authority  of  Mr.  Tyrrel  in  the  village  assembly,  and  in 
all  scenes  of  indiscriminate  resort.    His  disposition  by  no 


22  ADVENTURES  OF 

means  inclined  him  to  withhold  himself  from  scenes  of 
fashionable  amusement ;  and  he  and  his  competitor  were  like 
two  stars  fated  never  to  appear  at  once  above  the  horizon. 
The  advantages  Mr.  Falkland  possessed  in  the  comparison 
are  palpable;  and  had  it  been  otherwise,  the  subjects  of 
his  rural  neighbour  were  sufficiently  disposed  to  revolt 
against  his  merciless  dominion.  They  had  hitherto  sub- 
mitted from  fear,  and  not  from  love;  and  if  they  had  not 
rebelled,  it  was  only  for  want  of  a  leader.  Even  the  ladies 
regarded  Mr.  Falkland  with  particular  complacency.  His 
polished  manners  were  peculiarly  in  harmony  with  feminine 
delicacy.  The  sallies  of  his  wit  were  far  beyond  those  of 
Mr.  Tyrrel  in  variety  and  vigour;  in  addition  to  which 
they  had  the  advantage  of  having  their  spontaneous  exuber- 
ance guided  and  restrained  by  the  sagacity  of  a  cultivated 
mind.  The  graces  of  his  person  were  enhanced  by  the  ele- 
gance of  his  deportment;  and  the  benevolence  and  liberality 
of  his  temper  were  upon  all  occasions  conspicuous.  It 
was  common  indeed  to  Mr.  Tyrrel,  together  with  Mr. 
Falkland,  to  be  little  accessible  to  sentiments  of  awkward- 
ness and  confusion.  But  for  this  Mr.  Tyrrel  was  indebted 
to  a  self-satisfied  effrontery,  and  a  boisterous  and  over- 
bearing elocution,  by  which  he  was  accustomed  to  dis- 
comfit his  assailants;  while  Mr.  Falkland,  with  great 
ingenuity  and  candour  of  mind,  was  enabled  by  his  extensive 
knowledge  of  the  world,  and  acquaintance  with  his  own  re- 
sources, to  perceive  almost  instantaneously  the  proceeding 
it  most  became  him  to  adopt. 

Mr.  Tyrrel  contemplated  the  progress  of  his  rival  with 
uneasiness  and  aversion.  He  often  commented  upon  it  to 
his  particular  confidants  as  a  thing  altogether  inconceivable. 
Mr.  Falkland  he  described  as  an  animal  that  was  beneath 
contempt.  Diminutive  and  dwarfish  in  his  form,  he  wanted 
to  set  up  a  new  standard  of  human  nature,  adapted  to  his 
miserable  condition.  He  wished  to  persuade  people  that  the 
human  species  were  made  to  be  nailed  to  a  chair,  and  to  pore 
over  books.     He  would  have  them  exchange  those  robust 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  23 

exercises  which  make  us  joyous  in  the  performance,  and x 
vigorous  in  the  consequences,  for  the  wise  labour  of  scratch- 
ing our  heads  for  a  rhyme  and  counting  our  fingers  for  a 
verse.  Monkeys  were  as  good  men  as  these.  A  nation  of 
such  animals  would  have  no  chance  with  a  single  regiment 
of  the  old  English  votaries  of  beef  and  pudding.  He  never 
saw  anything  come  of  learning  but  to  make  people  foppish 
^and  impertinent;  and  a  sensible  man  would  not  wish  a 
worse  calamity  to  the  enemies  of  his  nation,  than  to  see  them 
run  mad  after  such  pernicious  absurdities.  It  was  impossible 
that  people  could  seriously  feel  any  liking  for  such  a  ridicu- 
lous piece  of  goods  as  this  outlandish  foreign-made  English- 
man. But  he  knew  very  well  how  it  was:  it  was  a  miserable 
piece  of  mummery  that  was  played  only  in  spite  of  him. 
But  might  his  soul  be  for  ever  blasted  if  he  were  not  bitterly 
revenged  upon  them  all! 

If  such  were  the  sentiments  of  Mr.  Tyrrel,  his  patience 
found  ample  exercise  in  the  language  which  was  held  by 
the  rest  of  his  neighbours  on  the  same  subject.  While  he 
saw  nothing  in  Mr.  Falkland  but  matter  of  contempt,  they 
appeared  to  be  never  weary  of  recounting  his  praises.  Such 
dignity,  such  affability,  so  perpetual  an  attention  to  the 
happiness  of  others,  such  delicacy  of  sentiment  and  expres- 
sion! Learned  without  ostentation,  refined  without  foppery, 
elegant  withouf~effeminacy !  Perpetually  anxious  to  pre- 
vent his  superiority  from  being  painfully  felt,  it  was  so 
much  the  more  certainly  felt  to  be  real,  and  excited  con- 
gratulation instead  of  envy  in  the  spectator.  It  is  scarcely 
necessary  to  remark,  that  the  revolution  of  sentiment  in  this 
rural  vicinity  belongs  to  one  of  the  most  obvious  features 
of  the  human  mind.  The  rudest  exhibition  of  art  is  at  first 
admired,  till  a  nobler  is  "presented,  and  we  are  taught  to 
wonder  at  the  facility  with  which  before  we  had  been  satis- 
fied. Mr.  Tyrrel  thought  there  would  be  no  end  to  the 
commendation;  and  expected  when  their  common  acquain- 
tance would  fall  down  and  adore  the  intruder.  The  most 
inadvertent  expression  of  applause  inflicted  upon  him  the 


I 


24  ADVENTURES  OF     * 

torment  of  demons.  He  writhed  with  agony,  his  features 
became  distorted,  and  his  looks  inspired  terror.  Such  suffer- 
ing would  probably  have  soured  the  kindest  temper;  what 
must  have  been  its  effect  upon  Mr.  Tyrrel's,  always  fierce, 
unrelenting,  and  abrupt? 

The  advantages  of  Mr.  Falkland  seemed  by  no  means  to 
diminish  with  their  novelty.  Every  new  sufferer  from  Mr. 
Tyrrel's  tyranny  immediately  went  over  to  the  standard 
of  his  adversary.  The  ladies,  though  treated  by  their  rus- 
tic swain  with  more  gentleness  than  the  men,  were  occa- 
sionally exposed  to  his  capriciousness  and  insolence.  They 
could  not  help  remarking  the  contrast  between  these  two 
leaders  in  the  fields  of  chivalry,  the  one  of  whom  paid 
no  attention  to  any  one's  pleasure  but  his  own,  while  the 
other  seemed  all  good-humour  and  benevolence.  It  was  in 
vain  that  Mr.  Tyrrel  endeavoured  to  restrain  the  rugged- 
ness  of  his  character.  His  motive  was  impatience,  his 
thoughts  were  gloomy,  and  his  courtship  was  like  the 
pawings  of  an  elephant.  It  appeared  as  if  his  temper  had 
been  more  human  while  he  indulged  in  its  free  bent,  than 
now  that  he  sullenly  endeavoured  to  put  fetters  upon  its 
excesses. 

Among  the  ladies  of  the  village-assembly  already  men- 
tioned there  was  none  that  seemed  to  engage  more  of  the 
kindness  of  Mr.  Tyrrel  than  Miss  Hardingham.  She  was 
also  one  of  the  few  that  had  not  yet  gone  over  to  the 
enemy,  either  because  she  really  preferred  the  gentleman 
who  was  her  oldest  acquaintance,  or  that  she  conceived  from 
calculation  this  conduct  best  adapted  to  ensure  her  suc- 
cess in  a  husband.  One  day,  however,  she  thought  proper, 
probably  only  by  way  of  experiment,  to  show  Mr.  Tyrrel 
that  she  could  engage  in  hostilities,  if  he  should  at  any  time 
give  her  sufficient  provocation.  She  so  adjusted  her  ma- 
noeuvres as  to  be  engaged  by  Mr.  Falkland  as  his  partner  for 
the  dance  of  the  evening,  though  without  the  smallest  inten- 
tion on  the  part  of  that  gentleman  (who  was  unpardonably 
deficient  in  the  sciences  of  anecdote  and  match-making)  of 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  25 

giving  offence  to  his  country  neighbour.  Though  the  man- 
ners of  Mr.  Falkland  were  condescending  and  attentive,  his 
hours  of  retirement  were  principally  occupied  in  contempla- 
tions too  dignified  for  scandal,  and  too  large  for  the  alterca- 
tions of  a  vestry,  or  the  politics  of  an  election-borough. 

A  short  time  before  the  dances  began,  Mr.  Tyrrel  went  up 
to  his  fair  inamorata,  and  entered  into  some  trifling  conversa- 
tion with  her  to  fill  up  the  time,  as  intending  in  a  few 
minutes  to  lead  her  forward  to  the  field.  He  had  accustomed 
himself  to  neglect  the  ceremony  of  soliciting  beforehand  a 
promise  in  his  favour,  as  not  supposing  it  possible  that  any 
one  would  dare  dispute  his  behests ;  and,  had  it  been  other- 
wise, he  would  have  thought  the  formality  unnecessary  in 
this  case,  his  general  preference  to  Miss  Hardingham  being 
notorious. 

While  he  was  thus  engaged  Mr.  Falkland  came  up.  Mr. 
j  Tyrml  always^egarded  him  with_aversion  and  loathing. 
Mr.  Falkland,  however,  slided  in  a  graceful  and  unaffected 
manner  into  the  conversation  already  begun;  and  the  ani- 
mated ingenuousness  of  his  manner  was  such  as  might  for 
the  time  have  disarmed  the  devil  of  his  malice.  Mr.  Tyrrel 
probably  conceived  that  his  accosting  Miss  Hardingham  was 
an  accidental  piece  of  general  ceremony,  and  expected  every 
moment  when  he  would  withdraw  to  another  part  of  the 
room. 

The  company  now  began  to  be  in  motion  for  the  dance, 
and  Mr.  Falkland  signified  as  much  to  Miss  Hardingham. 
"Sir,"  interrupted  Mr.  Tyrrel  abruptly,  "that  lady  is  my 
partner." — "I  believe  not,  sir;  that  lady  has  been  so 
obliging  as  to  accept  my  invitation." — "I  tell  you,  sir,  no. 
Sir,  I  have  an  interest  in  that  lady's  affections;  and  I  will 
suffer  no  man  to  intrude  upon  my  claims." — "The  lady's 
affections  are  not  the  subject  of  the  present  question." — 
"Sir,  it  is  to  no  purpose  to  parley.  Make  room,  sir!" — 
Mr.  Falkland  gently  repelled  his  antagonist.  "Mr.  Tyrrel!" 
returned  he,  with  some  firmness,  "let  us  have  no  altercation 
in  this  business:  the  master  of  the  ceremonies  is  the  proper 


26  CALEB  WILLIAMS 

person  to  decide  in  a  difference  of  this  sort,  if  we  cannot 
adjust  it:  we  can  neither  of  us  intend  to  exhibit  our  valour 
before  the  ladies,  and  shall  therefore  cheerfully  submit  to 
his  verdict." — "Damn  me,  sir,  if  I  understand — "  "Softly, 
Mr.  Tyrrel;  I  intended  you  no  offence.  But,  sir,  no  man 
shall  prevent  my  asserting  that  to  which  I  have  once  ac- 
quired a  claim!" 

Mr.  Falkland  uttered  these  words  with  the  most  un- 
ruffled temper  in  the  world.  The  tone  in  which  he  spoke 
had  acquired  elevation,  but  neither  roughness  nor  impa- 
tience. There  was  a  fascination  in  his  manner  that  made 
the  ferociousness  of  his  antagonist  subside  into  impotence. 
Miss  Hardingham  had  begun  to  repent  of  her  experiment, 
but  her  alarm  was  speedily  quieted  by  the  dignified  compo- 
sure of  her  new  partner.  Mr.  Tyrrel  walked  away  without 
answering  a  word.  He  muttered  curses  as  he  went,  which 
the  laws  of  honour  did  not  oblige  Mr.  Falkland  to  over- 
hear, and  which  indeed  it  would  have  been  no  easy  task  to 
have  overheard  with  accuracy.  Mr.  Tyrrel  would  not,  per- 
haps, have  so  easily  given  up  his  point,  had  not  his  own 
good  sense  presently  taught  him,  that,  however  eager  he 
might  be  for  revenge,  this  was  not  the  ground  he  should 
desire  to  occupy.  But,  though  he  could  not  openly  resent 
this  rebellion  against  his  authority,  he  brooded  over  it  in 
the  recesses  of  a  malignant  mind ;  and  it  was  evident  enough 
that  he  was  accumulating  materials  for  a  bitter  account,  to 
which  he  trusted  his  adversary  should  one  day  be  brought. 


CHAPTER  FOUR 

THIS  was  only  one  out  of  innumerable  instances, 
that  every  day  seemed  to  multiply,  of  petty  morti- 
fications which  Mr.  Tyrrel  was  destined  to  endure 
on  the  part  of  Mr.  Falkland.  In  all  of  them  Mr.  Falkland 
conducted  himself  with  such  unaffected  propriety,  as  per- 
petually to  add  totEe  stock  of  his  reputation.  The  more 
Ir.  Tyrrel  struggled  with  his  misfortune,  the  more  con- 
spicuous and  inveterate  it  became.  A  thousand  times  he 
cursed  his  stars,  which  took,  as  he  apprehended,  a  malicious 
pleasure  in  making  Mr.  Falkland,  at  every  turn,  the  instru- 
ment of  his  humiliation.  Smarting  under  a  succession  of 
untoward  events,  he  appeared  to  feel,  in  the  most  exquisite 
manner,  the  distinctions  paid  to  his  adversary,  even  in 
those  points  in  which  he  had  not  the  lightest  pretensions. 
An  instance  of  this  now  occurred. 

Mr.  Clare,  a  poet  whose  works  have  done  immortal 
honour  to  the  country  that  produced  him,  had  lately  retired, 
after  a  life  spent  in  the  sublimest  efforts  of  genius,  to 
enjoy  the  produce  of  his  economy,  and  the  reputation  he 
had  acquired,  in  this  very  neighbourhood.  Such  an  inmate 
was  looked  up  to  by  the  country  gentlemen  with  a  degree  of 
adoration.  They  felt  a  conscious  pride  in  recollecting  that 
the  boast  of  England  was  a  native  of  their  vicinity;  and 
they  were  by  no  means  deficient  in  gratitude  when  they  saw 
him,  who  had  left  them  an  adventurer,  return  into  the  midst 
of  them,  in  the  close  of  his  days,  crowned  with  honours  and 
opulence.  The  reader  is  acquainted  with  his  works:  he  has, 
probably,  dwelt  upon  them  with  transport;  and  I  need  not 
remind  him  of  their  excellence:  but  he  is,  perhaps,  a  stranger 
to  his  personal  qualifications;  he  does  not  know  that  his 
productions  were  scarcely  more  admirable  than  his  conversa- 

27 


2  3  ADVENTURES  OF 

tion.    In  company  he  seemed  to  be  the  only  person  ignorant 
of  the  greatness  of  his  fame.    To  the  world  his  writings  will 
long  remain  a  kind  of  specimen  of  what  the  human  mind  is 
capable  of  performing;  but  no  man  perceived  their  defects 
so  acutely  as  he,  or  saw  so  distinctly  how  much  yet  re- 
mained to  be  effected:  he  alone  appeared  to  look  upon  his 
works  with  superiority  and  indifference.    One  of  the  features 
that  most  eminently   distinguished  him  was   a  perpetual 
suavity  of  manners,  a  comprehensiveness  of  mind,  that  re- 
garded the  errors  of  others  without  a  particle  of  resentment, 
and  made  it  impossible  for  any  one  to  be  his  enemy.    He 
pointed  out  to  men  their  mistakes  with  frankness  and  unre- 
serve:  his  remonstrances  produced  astonishment  and  con- 
viction, but  without  uneasiness,  in  the  party  to  whom  they 
were  addressed:  they  felt  the  instrument  that  was  employed 
to  correct  their  irregularities,  but  it  never  mangled  what  it 
was  intended  to  heal.     Such  were  the  moral  qualities  that 
distinguished  him  among  his  acquaintance.    The  intellectual 
accomplishments  he  exhibited  were,  principally,  a  tranquil 
and  mild  enthusiasm,  and  a  richness  of  conception  which 
dictated  spontaneously  to  his  tongue,  and  flowed  with  so 
much  ease,  that  it  was  only  by  retrospect  you  could  be  made 
aware  of  the  amazing  variety  of  ideas  that  had  been  pre- 
sented. 

Mr.  Clare  certainly  found  few  men  in  this  remote  situa- 
tion that  were  capable  of  participating  in  his  ideas  and 
amusements.  It  has  been  among  the  weaknesses  of  great 
men  to  fly  to  solitude,  and  converse  with  woods  and 
groves,  rather  than  with  a  circle  of  strong  and  compre- 
hensive minds  like  their  own.  From  the  moment  of  Mr. 
Falkland's  arrival  in  the  neighbourhood,  Mr.  Clare  dis-  r 
tinpriiifthed  him  in  the  most  flattering  manner.  To  so  pene- 
trating a  genius* Uieie  Was  11U  iietJ'd'TJT'lOng  experience  and 
fpatient  observation  to  discover  the  merits  and  defects  of  any 
character  that  presented  itself.  The  materials  of  his  judg- 
ment had  long  since  been  accumulated;  and,  at  the  close  of 
so  illustrious  a  life,  he  might  almost  be  said  to  see  through 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  29 

nature  at  a  glance.  What  wonder  that  he  took  some  interest 
in  a  mind  in  a  certain  degree  congenial  with  his  own?  But 
to  Mr.  Tyrrel's  diseased  imagination,  every  distinction  be- 
stowed on  his  neighbour  seemed~Td"T)e  expressly  intended 
as  an  insult  to  him.  On  the  other  hand,  Mr.  Clare, 
though  gentle  and  benevolent  in  his  remonstrances  to  a 
degree  that  made  the  taking  offence  impossible,  was  by  no 
means  parsimonious  of  praise,  or  slow  to  make  use  of  the 
deference  that  was  paid  him  for  the  purpose  of  procuring 
justice  to  merit. 

It  happened  at  one  of  those  public  meetings  at  which 
Mr.  Falkland  and  Mr.  Tyrrel  were  present,  that  the  con- 
versation, in  one  of  the  most  numerous  sets  into  which  the 
company  was  broken,  turned  upon  the  poetical  talents  of 
the  former.  A  lady,  who  was  present,  and  was  distinguished 
for  the  acuteness  of  her  understanding,  said  she  had  been 
favoured  with  a  sight  of  a  poem  he  had  just  written,  en- 
titled An  Ode  to  the  Genius  of  Chivalry,  which  appeared  to 
her  of  exquisite  merit.  The  curiosity  of  the  company  was 
immediately  excited,  and  the  lady  added,  she  had  a  copy 
in  her  pocket,  which  was  much  at  their  service,  provided 
its  being  thus  produced  would  not  be  disagreeable  to  the 
author.  The  whole  circle  immediately  entreated  Mr.  Falk- 
land to  comply  with  their  wishes,  and  Mr.  Clare,  who  was 
one  of  the  company,  enforced  their  petition.  Nothing  gave 
this  gentleman  so  much  pleasure  as  to  have  an  opportunity 
of  witnessing  and  doing  justice  to  the  exhibition  of  intellec- 
tual excellence.  Mr.  Falkland  had  no  false  modesty  or 
affectation,  and  therefore  readily  yielded  his  consent. 

Mr.  Tyrrel  accidentally  sat  at  the  extremity  of  this  circle. 
It  cannot  be  supposed  that  the  turn  the  conversation  had 
taken  was  by  any  means  agreeable  to  him.  He  appeared 
to  wish  to  withdraw  himself,  but  there  seemed  to  be  some 
unknown  power  that,  as  it  were,  by  enchantment,  re- 
tained him  in  his  place,  and  made  him  consent  to  drink 
to  the  dregs  the  bitter  potion  which  envy  had  prepared  for 
him. 


30  ADVENTURES  OF 

The  poem  was  read  to  the  rest  of  the  company  by  Mr. 
Clare,  whose  elocution  was  scarcely  inferior  to  his  other 
accomplishments.  Simplicity,  discrimination,  and  energy 
constantly  attended  him  in  the  act  of  reading,  and  it  is 
not  easy  to  conceive  a  more  refined  delight  than  fell  to 
the  lot  of  those  who  had  the  good  fortune  to  be  his  audi- 
tors. The  beauties  of  Mr.  Falkland's  poem  were  accordingly 
exhibited  with  every  advantage.  The  successive  passions  of 
the  author  were  communicated  to  the  hearer.  What  was 
impetuous,  and  what  was  solemn,  were  delivered  with  a 
responsive  feeling,  and  a  flowing  and  unlaboured  tone. 
The  pictures  conjured  up  by  the  creative  fancy  of  the 
poet  were  placed  full  to  view,  at  one  time  overwhelming 
the  soul  with  superstitious  awe,  and  at  another  transporting 
it  with  luxuriant  beauty. 

The  character  of  the  hearers  upon  this  occasion  has  al- 
ready been  described.  They  were,  for  the  most  part,  plain, 
unlettered,  and  of  little  refinement.  Poetry  in  general  they 
read,  when  read  at  all,  from  the  mere  force  of  imitation,  and 
with  few  sensations  of  pleasure;  but  this  poem  had  a  pecu- 
liar vein  of  glowing  inspiration.  This  very  poem  would 
probably  have  been  seen  by  many  of  them  with  little  effect ; 
but  the  accents  of  Mr.  Clare  carried  it  home  to  the  heart. 
He  ended:  and  as  the  countenances  of  his  auditors  had 
before  sympathized  with  the  passions  of  the  composition, 
so  now  they  emulated  each  other  in  declaring  their  approba- 
tion. Their  sensations  were  of  a  sort  to  which  they  were 
little  accustomed.  One  spoke,  and  another  followed  by  a 
sort  of  uncontrollable  impulse;  and  the  rude  and  broken 
manner  of  their  commendations  rendered  them  the  more 
singular  and  remarkable.  But  what  was  least  to  be  en- 
dured was  the  behaviour  of  Mr.  Clare.  He  returned  the 
manuscript  to  the  lady  from  whom  he  had  received  it,  and 
then,  addressing  Mr.  Falkland,  said,  with  emphasis  and 
animation,  aHa!  this  is  as  it  should  be.  It  is  of  the  right 
stamp.  I  have  seen  too  many  hard  essays  strained  from 
the  labour  of  a  pedant,  and  pastoral  ditties  distressed  in 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  31 

lack  of  a  meaning.  They  are  such  as  you,  sir,  that  we  want. 
Do  not  forget,  however,  that  the  Muse  was  not  given  to 
add  refinements  to  idleness,  but  for  the  highest  and  most 
invaluable  purposes.  Act  up  to  the  magnitude  of  your 
destiny." 

A  moment  after  Mr.  Clare  quitted  his  seat,  and  with  Mr. 
Falkland  and  two  or  three  more  withdrew.  As  soon  as  they 
were  gone,  Mr.  Tyrrel  edged  farther  into  the  circle.  He 
had  sat  silent  so  long  that  he  seemed  ready  to  burst  with 
gall  and  indignation.  "Mighty  pretty  verses!"  said  he,  half 
talking  to  himself,  and  not  addressing  any  particular  per-  \ 
son:  "why,  ay,  the  verses  are  well  enough.  Damnation!  I 
should  like  to  know  what  a  ship-load  of  such  stuff  is  good 
for."  U— — 

"Why,  surely,"  said  the  lady  who  had  introduced  Mr. 
Falkland's  ode  on  the  present  occasion,  "you  must  allow  that 
poetry  is  an  agreeable  and  elegant  amusement." 

"Elegant,  quotha! — Why,  look  at  this  Falkland!  A  puny 
bit  of  a  thing!  In  the  devil's  name,  madam,  do  you  think 
he  would  write  poetry  if  he  could  do  anything  better?"  w-~ 

The  conversation  did  not  stop  here.  The  lady  expostu- 
lated. Several  other  persons,  fresh  from  the  sensation  they 
had  felt,  contributed  their  share.  Mr.  Tyrrel  grew  more 
violent  in  his  invectives,  and  found  ease  in  uttering  them. 
The  persons  who  were  able  in  any  degree  to  check  his 
vehemence  were  withdrawn.  One  speaker  after  another 
shrunk  back  into  silence,  too  timid  to  oppose,  or  too  indolent, 
to  contend  with  the  fierceness  of  his  passion.  He  found  the 
appearance  of  his  old  ascendency;  but  he  felt  its  deceitful- 
ness  and  uncertainty,  and  was  gloomily  dissatisfied. 

In  his  return  from  this  assembly  he  was  accompanied  by  a 
young  man,  whom  similitude  of  manners  had  rendered  one  of 
his  principal  confidants,  and  whose  road  home  was  in  part 
the  same  as  his  own.  One  might  have  thought  that  Mr. 
Tyrrel  had  sufficiently  vented  his  spleen  in  the  dialogue  he 
had  just  been  holding.  But  he  was  unable  to  dismiss  from 
his  recollection  the  anguish  he  had  endured.    "Damn  Falk- 


32  ADVENTURES  OF 

land!"  said  he.  "What  a  pitiful  scoundrel  is  here  to  make 
all  this  bustle  about!  But  women  and  fools  always  will 
be  fools;  there  is  no  help  for  that!  Those  that  set  them  on 
have  most  to  answer  for;  and  most  of  all,  Mr.  Clare.  He  is 
a  man  that  ought  to  know  something  of  the  world,  and 
past  being  duped  by  gewgaws  and  tinsel.  He  seemed,  too, 
to  have  some  notion  of  things:  I  should  not  have  suspected 
him  of  hallooing  to  a  cry  of  mongrels  without  honesty  or 
reason.  But  the  world  is  all  alike.  Those- that  occm  -better 
than  their  neighbours  are  only  more  artful.  They  mean  the 
aame^THing,  though  they  take  a  drrWent  road.  He  deceived 
;,  but  it  is  all  out  now.  They  are  the  makers 
of  the  mischief.  Fools  might  blunder,  but  they  would  not 
persist,  if  people  that  ought  to  set  them  right  did  not  encour- 
age them  to  go  wrong." 

A  few  days  after  this  adventure  Mr.  Tyrrel  was  surprised 
to  receive  a  visit  from  Mr.  Falkland.  Mr.  Falkland  pro- 
ceeded, without  ceremony,  to  explain  the  motive  of  his 
coming. 

"Mr.  Tyrrel,"  said  he,  "I  am  come  to  have  an  amicable 
explanation  with  you." 

"Explanation!     What  is  my  offence?" 

"None  in  the  world,  sir;  and  for  that  reason  I  conceive 
this  the  fittest  time  to  come  to  a  right  understanding." 

"You  are  in  a  devil  of  a  hurry,  sir.  Are  you  clear  that 
this  haste  will  not  mar,  instead  of  make  an  understanding?" 

"I  think  I  am,  sir.  I  have  great  faith  in  the  purity  of  my 
intentions,  and  I  will  not  doubt,  when  you  perceive  the  view 
with  which  I  come,  that  you  will  willingly  co-operate  with 
it." 

"Mayhap,  Mr.  Falkland,  we  may  not  agree  about  that. 
One  man  thinks  one  way,  and  another  man  thinks  another. 
Mayhap  I  do  not  think  I  have  any  great  reason  to  be 
pleased  with  you  already." 

"It  may  be  so.  I  cannot,  however,  charge  myself  with 
having  given  you  reason  to  be  displeased." 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  33 

"Well,  sir,  you  have  no  right  to  put  me  out  of  humour 
with  myself.  If  you  come  to  play  upon  me,  and  try  what 
sort  of  a  fellow  you  shall  have  to  deal  with,  damn  me  if  you 
shall  have  any  reason  to  hug  yourself  upon  the  experiment." 

"Nothing,  sir,  is  more  easy  for  us  than  to  quarrel.  If  you 
desire  that,  there  is  no  fear  that  you  will  find  opportuni- 
ties." 

"Damn  me,  sir,  if  I  do  not  believe  you  are  come  to  bully 
me." 

"Mr.  Tyrrel!  sir — have  a  care!" 

"Of  what,  sir? — Do  you  threaten  me?  Damn  my  soul! 
who  are  you?  what  do  you  come  here  for?" 

The  fieriness  of  Mr.  Tyrrel  brought  Mr.  Falkland  to  his 
recollection. 

"I  am  wrong,"  said  he.  "I  confess  it.  I  came  for  pur- 
poses of  peace.  With  that  view  I  have  taken  the  liberty  to 
visit  you.  Whatever  therefore  might  be  my  feelings  upon 
another  occasion,  I  am  bound  to  suppress  them  now." 

"Ho! — Well,  sir:  and  what  have  you  further  to  offer?" 

"Mr.  Tyrrel,"  proceeded  Mr.  Falkland,  "you  will  readily 
imagine  that  the  cause  that  brought  me  was  not  a  slight 
one.  I  would  not  have  troubled  you  with  a  visit,  but  for 
important  reasons.  My  coming  is  a  pledge  how  deeply  I 
am  myself  impressed  with  what  I  have  to  communicate. 

"We  are  in  a  critical  situation.  We  are  upon  the  brink 
of  a  whirlpool  which,  if  once  it  get  hold  of  us,  will  render 
all  further  deliberation  impotent.  An  unfortunate  jealousy 
seems  to  have  insinuated  itself  between  us,  which  I  would 
willingly  remove;  and  I  come  to  ask  your  assistance.  We 
are  both  of  us  nice  of  temper;  we  are  both  apt  to  kindle, 
and  warm  of  resentment.  Precaution  in  this  stage  can  be 
dishonourable  to  neither;  the  time  may  come  when  we 
shall  wish  we  had  employed  it,  and  find  it  too  late.  Why 
should  we  be  enemies?  Our  tastes  are  different;  our  pur- 
suits need  not  interfere.  We  both  of  us  amply  possess  the 
means  of  happiness;  we  may  be  respected  by  all,  and  spend 


\ 


34  ADVENTURES  OF 

a  long  life  of  tranquillity  and  enjoyment.  Will  it  be  wise 
in  us  to  exchange  this  prospect  for  the  fruits  of  strife?  A 
strife  between  persons  with  our  peculiarities  and  our  weak- 
nesses includes  consequences  that  I  shudder  to  think  of. 
I  fear,  sir,  that  it  is  pregnant  with  death  at  least  to  one  of 
us,  and  with  misfortune  and  remorse  to  the  survivor." 

"Upon  my  soul,  you  are  a  strange  man!  Why  trouble 
me  with  your  prophecies  and  forebodings?" 

"Because  it  is  necessary  to  your  happiness!  Because  it 
becomes  me  to  tell  you  of  our  danger  now,  rather  than  wait 
till  my  character  will  allow  this  tranquillity  no  longer! 

"By  quarrelling  we  shall  but  imitate  the  great  mass  of 
mankind,  who  could  easily  quarrel  in  our  place.  Let  us 
do  better.  Let  us  show  that  we  have  the  magnanimity  to 
contemn  petty  misunderstandings.  By  thus  judging  we 
shall  do  ourselves  most  substantial  honour.  By  a  contrary 
conduct  we  shall  merely  present  a  comedy  for  the  amuse- 
ment of  our  acquaintance." 

"Do  you  think  so?  there  may  be  something  in  that. 
Damn  me  if  I  consent  to  be  the  jest  of  any  man  living." 

"You  are  right,  Mr.  Tyrrel.  Let  us  each  act  in  a  manner 
best  calculated  to  excite  respect.  We  neither  of  us  wish 
to  change  roads;  let  us  each  suffer  the  other  to  pursue  his 
own  track  unmolested.  Be  this  our  compact;  and  by  mutual 
forbearance  let  us  preserve  mutual  peace." 

Saying  this,  Mr.  Falkland  offered  his  hand  to  Mr. 
Tyrrel,  in  token  of  fellowship.  But  the  gesture  was  too 
significant.  The  wayward  rustic,  who  seemed  to  have 
been  somewhat  impressed  by  what  had  preceded,  taken 
as  he  now  was  by  surprise,  shrunk  back.  Mr.  Falkland 
was  again  ready  to  take  fire  upon  this  new  slight,  but  he 
checked  himself. 

"All  this  is  very  unaccountable,"  cried  Mr.  Tyrrel. 
"What  the  devil  can  have  made  you  so  forward,  if  you 
had  not  some  sly  purpose  to  answer,  by  which  I  am  to 
be  overreached?" 

"My  purpose,"  replied  Mr.  Falkland,  "is  a  manly  and 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  35 

an  honest  juirpnsfc.  __JVhy  should  you  refuse  a  proposition  \ 
dictated  by  reason  and  an  equal  regard  to  the  interest  of 
each?" 

Mr.  Tyrrel  had  had  an  opportunity  for  pause,  and  fell 
back  into  his  habitual  character. 

"Well,  sir,  in  all  this  I  must  own  there  is  some  frank- 
ness. Now  I  will  return  you  like  for  like.  It  is  no  matter 
how  I  came  by  it,  my  temper  is  rough,  and  will  not  be 
controlled.  Mayhap  you  may  think  it  is  a  weakness,  but 
I  do  not  desire  to  see  it  altered.  Till  you  came,  I  found 
myself  very  well:  I  liked  my  neighbours,  and  my  neigh- 
bours humoured  me.  But  now  the  case  is  entirely  altered; 
and,  as  long  as  I  cannot  stir  abroad  without  meeting  with 
some  mortification  in  which  you  are  directly  or  remotely 
concerned,  I  am  determined  to  hate  you.  Now,  sir,  if  you 
will  only  go  out  of  the  county  or  the  kingdom,  to  the  devil,  if 
you  please,  so  as  I  may  never  hear  of  you  any  more,  I  will 
promise  never  to  quarrel  with  you  as  long  as  I  live.  Your 
rhymes  and  your  rebusses,  your  quirks  and  your  conun- 
drums, may  then  be  everything  that  is  grand  for  what  I 


care." 


cMr.  Tyrrel,  be  reasonable!  Might  not  I  as  well  desire 
you  to  leave  the  county,  as  you  desire  me?  I  come  to  you, 
not  as  to  a  master,  but  an  equal.  In  the  society  of  men  we 
must  have  something  to  endure,  as  well  as  to  enjoy.  No 
man  must  think  that  the  world  was  made  for  him.  Let  us 
take  things  as  we  find  them;  and  accommodate  ourselves 
as  we  can  to  unavoidable  circumstances." 

"True,  sir;  all  this  is  fine  talking.  But  I  return  to  my 
text:  we  are  as  God  made  us.  I  am  neither  a  philosopher 
nor  a  poet,  to  set  out  upon  a  wild-goose  chase  of  making 
myself  a  different  man  from  what  you  find  me.  As  for  con- 
sequences,  what  must  be  must  be.  As  we  brew  we  must 
bake.  And  so,  do  you  see?  I  shall  not  trouble  myself 
about  what  is  to  be,  but  stand  up  to  it  with  a  stout  heart 
when  it  comes.  Only  this  I  can  tell  you,  that  as  long  as 
I  find  you  thrust  into  my  dish  every  day,  I  shall  hate  you  as 


36  ADVENTURES  OF 

bad  as  senna  and  valerian.  And  damn  me  if  I  do  not 
think  I  hate  you  the  more  for  coming  to-day  in  this  prag- 
matical way,  when  nobody  sent  for  you,  on  purpose  to  show 
how  much  wiser  you  are  than  all  the  world  besides." 
**  "Mr.  Tyrrel,  I  have  done.  I  foresaw  consequences,  and 
came  as  a  friend.  I  had  hoped  that,  by  mutual  explanation, 
we  should  have  come  to  a  better  understanding.  I  am  dis- 
appointed ;  but,  perhaps,  when  you  coolly  reflect  on  what  has 
passed,  you  will  give  me  credit  for  my  intentions,  and  think 
that  my  proposal  was  not  an  unreasonable  one." 

Having  said  this  Mr.  Falkland  departed.     Through  the 

interview  he,  no  doubt,  conducted  himself  in  a  way  that  did 

him  peculiar  credit.    Yet  the  warmth  of  his  temper  could 

not  be  entirely  suppressed:  and  even  when  he  was  most 

<J  exemplary,  there  was  an  apparent  loftiness  in  his  manner 

*     \  that  was  calculated  to  irritate.:  and  the^very  grandeur  wftH 

^Tfiicn  hesuppressed  his  passions  operated  indirectly  as  a 

taunt  to  his  opponent.    The  interview  was  prompted  by  the 

noblest  sentiments;  but  it  unquestionably  served  to  widen 

the  breach  it  was  intended  to  heal. 

For  Mr.  Tyrrel,  he  had  recourse  to  his  old  expedient,  and 
unburthened  the  tumult  of  his  thoughts  to  his  confidential 
friend.  "This,"  cried  he,  "is  a  new  artifice  of  the  fellow 
to  prove  his  imagined  superiority.  ^  We  knew  well  enough 
that  he  had  the  gift  of  the  gab.  To  be  sure,  if  the  world 
were  to  be  governed  by  words,  he  would  be  in  the  right 
box.  Oh  yes,  he  had  it  all  hollow!  But  what  signifies 
prating?  Business  must  be  done  in  another  guess  way  than 
that.  I  wonder  what  possessed  me  that  I  did  not  kick  him! 
But  that  is  all  to  come.  This  is  only  a  new  debt  added  to 
the  score,  which  he  shall  one  day  richly  pay.  This  Falk- 
land haunts  me  like  a  demon.  I  cannot  wake  but  I  think 
of  him.  I  cannot  sleep  but  I  see  him.  He  poisons  all  my 
pleasures.  I  should  be  glad  to  see  him  torn  with  tenter- 
hooks, and  to  grind  his  heartstrings  with  my  teeth.  I  shall 
know  no  joy  till  I  see  him  ruined.  There  may  be  some 
things  right  about  him;  but  he  is  my  perpetual  torment. 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  37 

The  thought  of  him  hangs  like  a  dead  weight  upon  my  heart, 
and  I  have  a  right  to  shake  it  off.  Does  he  think  I  will  feel 
all  that  I  endure  for  nothing?" 

In  spite  of  the  acerbity  of  Mr.  Tyrrel's  feelings,  it  is 
probable,  however,  he  did  some  justice  to  his  rival.  He  re- 
garded him,  indeed,  with  added  dislike;  but  he  no  longer 
regarded  him  as  a  despicable  foe.  He  avoided  his  encounter ; 
he  forebore  to  treat  him  with  random  hostility;  he  seemed 
to  lie  in  wait  for  his  victim,  and  to  collect  his  venom  for  a 
mortal  assault. 


CHAPTER  FIVE 

IT  was  not  long  after  that  a  malignant  distemper  broke 
out  in  the  neighbourhood,  which  proved  fatal  to  many 
of  the  inhabitants,  and  was  of  unexampled  rapidity 
in  its  effects.  One  of  the  first  persons  that  was  seized  with 
it  was  Mr.  Clare.  It  may  be  conceived  what  grief  and 
alarm  this  incident  spread  through  the  vicinity.  Mr.  Clare 
was  considered  by  them  as  something  more  than  mortal. 
The  equanimity  of  his  behaviour,  his  unassuming  carriage, 
his  exuberant  benevolence  and  goodness  of  heart,  joined 
with  his  talents,  his  inoffensive  wit,  and  the  comprehensive- 
ness of  his  intelligence,  made  him  the  idol  of  all  that  knew 
him.  In  the  scene  of  his  rural  retreat,  at  least,  he  had  no 
enemy.  All  mourned  the  danger  that  now  threatened  him. 
He  appeared  to  have  had  the  prospect  of  long  life,  and  of 
going  down  to  his  grave  full  of  years  and  of  honour.  Per- 
haps these  appearances  were  deceitful.  Perhaps  the  intellec- 
tual efforts  he  had  made,  which  were  occasionally  more 
sudden,  violent,  and  unintermitted  than  a  strict  regard  to 
health  would  have  dictated,  had  laid  the  seed  of  future 
disease.  But  a  v  sanguine  observer  would  infallibly  have 
predicted,  that  his  temperate  habits,  activity  of  mind,  and 
unabated  cheerfulness,  would  be  able  even  to  keep  death  at 
bay  for  a  time,  and  baffle  the  attacks  of  distemper,  provided 
their  approach  were  not  uncommonly  rapid  and  violent. 
The  general  affliction,  therefore,  was  doubly  pungent  upon 
the  present  occasion. 

But  no  one  was  so  much  affected  as  Mr.  Falkland.  Per- 
haps no  man  so  well  understood  the  value  of  the  life  that 
was  now  at  stake.  He  immediately  hastened  to  the  spot; 
but  he  found  some  difficulty  in  gaining  admission.  Mr. 
Clare,  aware  of  the  infectious  nature  of  his  disease,  had 

38 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  39 

given  directions  that  as  few  persons  as  possible  should  ap- 
proach him.  Mr.  Falkland  sent  up  his  name.  He  was  told 
that  he  was  included  in  the  general  orders.  He  was  not, 
however,  of  a  temper  to  be  easily  repulsed ;  he  persisted  with 
obstinacy,  and  at  length  carried  his  point,  being  only  re- 
minded, in  the  first  instance,  to  employ  those  precautions 
which  experience  has  proved  most  effectual  for  counteracting 
infection. 

He  found  Mr.  Clare  in  his  bed-chamber,  but  not  in  bed. 
He  was  sitting  in  his  night-gown  at  a  bureau  near  the 
window.  His  appearance  was  composed  and  cheerful,  but 
death  was  in  his  countenance.  "I  had  a  great  inclination, 
Falkland,"  said  he,  "not  to  have  suffered  you  to  come  in; 
and  yet  there  is  not  a  person  in  the  world  it  would  give 
me  more  pleasure  to  see.  But,  upon  second  thoughts,  I  be- 
lieve there  are  few  people  that  could  run  into  a  danger  of 
this  kind  with  a  better  prospect  of  escaping.  In  your  case, 
at  least,  the  garrison  will  not,  I  trust,  be  taken  through  the 
treachery  of  the  commander.  I  cannot  tell  how  it  is  that  I, 
who  can  preach  wisdom  to  you,  have  myself  been  caught. 
But  do  not  be  discouraged  by  my  example.  I  had  no  notice 
of  my  danger,  or  I  would  have  acquitted  myself  better." 

Mr.  Falkland,  having  once  established  himself  in  the 
apartment  of  his  friend,  would  upon  no  terms  consent  to 
retire.  Mr.  Clare  considered  that  there  was  perhaps  less 
danger  in  this  choice  than  in  the  frequent  change  from  the 
extremes  of  a  pure  to  a  tainted  air,  and  desisted  from  ex- 
postulation. "Falkland,"  said  he,  "when  you  came  in,  I 
had  just  finished  making  my  will.  I  was  not  pleased  with 
what  I  had  formerly  drawn  up  upon  that  subject,  and  I  did 
not  choose  in  my  present  situation  to  call  in  an  attorney. 
In  fact,  it  would  be  strange  if  a  man  of  sense,  with  pure 
and  direct  intentions,  should  not  be  able  to  perform  such  a 
function  for  himself." 

Mr.  Clare  continued  to  act  in  the  same  easy  and  disen- 
gaged manner  as  in  perfect  health.  To  judge  from  the 
cheerfulness  of  his  tone  and  the  firmness  of  his  manner,  the 


40  ADVENTURES  OF 

thought  would  never  once  have  occurred  that  he  was  dying. 
He  walked,  he  reasoned,  he  jested,  in  a  way  that  argued  the 
most  perfect  self-possession.  But  his  appearance  changed 
perceptibly  for  the  worse  every  quarter  of  an  hour.  Mr. 
Falkland  kept  his  eye  perpetually  fixed  upon  him,  with 
mingled  sentiments  of  anxiety  and  admiration. 

" Falkland,"  said  he,  after  having  appeared  for  a  short 
period  absorbed  in  thought,  "I  feel  that  I  am  dying.  This 
is  a  strange  distemper  of  mine.  Yesterday  I  seemed  in 
perfect  health,  and  to-morrow  I  shall  be  an  insensible 
corpse.  How  curious  is  the  line  that  separates  life  and 
death  to  mortal  men!  To  be  at  one  moment  active,  gay, 
penetrating,  with  stores  of  knowledge  at  one's  command, 
capable  of  delighting,  instructing,  and  animating  mankind, 
and  the  next,  lifeless  and  loathsome,  an  encumbrance  upon 
the  face  of  the  earth!  Such  is  the  history  of  many  men, 
and  such  will  be  mine. 

"I  feel  as  if  I  had  yet  much  to  do  in  the  world;  but  it 
will  not  be.  I  must  be  contented  with  what  is  past.  It  is 
in  vain  that  I  muster  all  my  spirits  to  my  heart.  The 
enemy  is  too  mighty  and  too  merciless  for  me;  he  will  not 
give  me  time  so  much  as  to  breathe.  These  things  are 
not  yet  at  least  in  our  power:  they  are  parts  of  a  great 
series  that  is  perpetually  flowing.  The  general  welfare,  the 
great  business  of  the  universe,  will  go  on,  though  I  bear 
no  further  share  in  promoting  it.  That  task  is  reserved  for 
younger  strengths,  for  you,  Falkland,  and  such  as  you.  We 
should  be  contemptible  indeed  if  the  prospect  of  human  im- 
provement did  not  yield  us  a  pure  and  perfect  delight,  inde- 
pendently of  the  question  of  our  existing  to  partake  of  it. 
Mankind  would  have  little  to  envy  to  future  ages,  if  they 
had  all  enjoyed  a  serenity  as  perfect  as  mine  has  been  for 
the  latter  half  of  my  existence." 

Mr.  Clare  sat  up  through  the  whole  day,  indulging  him- 
self in  easy  and  cheerful  exertions,  which  were  perhaps 
better  calculated  to  refresh  and  invigorate  the  frame  than 
if  he  had  sought  repose  in  its  direct  form.    Now  and  then 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  41 

he  was  visited  with  a  sudden  pang;  but  it  was  no  sooner 
felt,  than  he  seemed  to  rise  above  it,  and  smiled  at  the 
impotence  of  these  attacks.  They  might  destroy  him,  but 
they  could  not  disturb.  Three  or  four  times  he  was 
bedewed  with  profuse  sweats;  and  these  again  were  suc- 
ceeded by  an  extreme  dryness  and  burning  heat  of  the  skin. 
He  was  next  covered  with  small  livid  spots:  symptoms  of 
shivering  followed,  but  these  he  drove  away  with  a  deter- 
mined resolution.  He  then  became  tranquil  and  composed, 
and  after  some  time  decided  to  go  to  bed,  it  being  already 
night.  "Falkland,"  said  he,  pressing  his  hand,  "the  task 
of  dying  is  not  so  difficult  as  some  imagine.  When  one 
looks  back  from  the  brink  of  it,  one  wonders  that  so  total 
a  subversion  can  take  place  at  so  easy  a  price." 

He  had  now  been  some  time  in  bed,  and,  as  everything 
was  still,  Mr.  Falkland  hoped  that  he  slept;  but  in  that  he 
was  mistaken.  Presently  Mr.  Clare  threw  back  the  curtain, 
and  looked  in  the  countenance  of  his  friend.  "I  cannot 
sleep,"  said  he.  "No,  if  I  could  sleep,  it  would  be  the  same 
thing  as  to  recover;  and  I  am  destined  to  have  the  worst 
in  this  battle. 

"Falkland,  I  have  been  thinking  about  you.  I  do  not 
know  any  one  whose  injure  usefulness  I  corrjfiiwpl trie" "  w"i 
greater  hope.  Take  care  01  youfiJGlTl  Do  not  let  the  world 
be  defrauded  of  your  virtues.  I  am  acquainted  with  your 
weaklier  a!»  well  as  your  strength.  You  have  an  impetuos- 
ity, and  an  impatience  of  imagined  dishonour,  that,  if  once 
set  wrong,  may  make  you  as  eminently  mischievous.„.,as 
you  will  otherwise  Be  useful.  Think  seriously  of  exterminat- 
ing this  error! 

"But  if  I  cannot,  in  the  brief  expostulation  my  present 
situation  will  allow,  produce  this  desirable  change  in  you, 
there  is  at  least  one  thing  I  can  do.  I  can  put  you  upon 
your  guard  against  a  mischief  I  foresee  to  be  imminent. 
Beware  of  Mr.  Tyrrel.  Do  not  commit  the  mistake  of  de- 
c£llil£jliBi  ^  ™  unequal  ppprm^nt  Petty  causes  may 
produce  great  mischiefs.    Mr.  Tyrrel  is  boisterous,  rugged, 


^j 


42  ADVENTURES  OF 

and  unfeeling;  ano^you  are  too  passionate,  too  acutely  sensi- 
ble of  injury.  It  would  be  truly  to  be  lamented,  IF'a-Haafi 
so  inferior,  so  utterly  unworthy  to  be  compared  with  you, 
should  be  capable  of  changing  your  whole  history  into  misery 
and  guilt.  I  have  a  painful  presentiment  upon  my  heart, 
s  if  something  dreadful  would  reach  you  from  that  quarter, 
trhink  of  this.  I  exact  no  promise  from  you.  I  would  not 
Shackle  you  with  the  fetters  of  superstition;  I  would  have 
vou  governed  by  justice  and  reason." 

Mr.  Falkland  was  deeply  affected  with  this  expostulation. 
His  sense  of  the  generous  attention  of  Mr.  Clare,  at  such  a 
moment,  was  so  great  as  almost  to  deprive  him  of  utterance. 
He  spoke  in  short  sentences,  and  with  visible  effort.  "I 
will  behave  better,"  replied  he.  "Never  fear  me!  Your 
admonitions  shall  not  be  thrown  away  upon  me." 

Mr.  Clare  adverted  to  another  subject.  "I  have  made 
you  my  executor;  you  will  not  refuse  me  this  last  office  of 
friendship.  It  is  but  a  short  time  that  I  have  had  the  happi- 
ness of  knowing  you ;  but  in  that  short  time  I  have  examined 
you  well,  and  seen  you  thoroughly.  Do  not  disappoint  the 
sanguine  hope  I  have  entertained! 

"I  have  left  some  legacies.  My  former  connexions,  while 
I  lived  amid  the  busy  haunts  of  men,  as  many  of  them 
as  were  intimate,  are  all  of  them  dear  to  me.  I  have  not 
had  time  to  summon  them  about  me  upon  the  present  occa- 
sion, nor  did  I  desire  it.  The  remembrance  of  me  will, 
I  hope,  answer  a  better  purpose  than  such  as  are  usually 
thought  of  on  similar  occasions." 

Mr.  Clare,  having  thus  unburthened  his  mind,  spoke  no 
more  for  several  hours.  Towards  morning  Mr.  Falkland 
quietly  withdrew  the  curtain,  and  looked  at  the  dying  man. 
His  eyes  were  open,  and  were  now  gently  turned  towards 
his  young  friend.  His  countenance  was  sunk,  and  of  a 
deathlike  appearance.  "I  hope  you  are  better,"  said  Falk- 
land in  a  half-whisper,  as  if  afraid  of  disturbing  him.  Mr. 
Clare  drew  his  hand  from  the  bedclothes,  and  stretched  it 
forward;    Mr.   Falkland  advanced,   and  took  hold  of   it. 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  43 

"Much  better,"  said  Mr.  Clare,  in  a  voice  inward  and 
hardly  articulate;  "the  struggle  is  now  over;  I  have  finished 
my  part;  farewell!  remember!"  These  were  his  last  words. 
He  lived  still  a  few  hours;  his  lips  were  sometimes  seen  to 
move;  he  expired  without  a  groan. 

Mr.  Falkland  had  witnessed  the  scene  with  much  anxiety. 
His  hopes  of  a  favourable  crisis,  and  his  fear  of  disturbing 
the  last  moments  of  his  friend,  had  held  him  dumb.  For 
the  last  half-hour  he  had  stood  up,  with  his  eyes  intently 
fixed  upon  Mr.  Clare.  He  witnessed  the  last  gasp,  the  last 
little  convulsive  motion  of  the  frame.  He  continued  to  look; 
he  sometimes  imagined  that  he  saw  life  renewed.  At  length 
he  could  deceive  himself  no  longer,  and  exclaimed,  with  a 
distracted  accent,  "And  is  this  all?"  He  would  have  thrown 
himself  upon  the  body  of  his  friend;  the  attendants  with- 
held, and  would  have  forced  him  into  another  apartment. 
But  he  struggled  from  them,  and  hung  fondly  over  the  bed. 
"Is  this  the  end  of  genius,  virtue,  and  excellence?  Is  the 
luminary  of  the  world  thus  for  ever  gone?  Oh,  yesterday! 
yesterday!  Clare,  why  could  not  I  have  died  in  your 
stead!  Dreadful  moment!  Irreparable  loss!  Lost  in  the 
very  maturity  and  vigour  of  his  mind!  Cut  off  from  a  use- 
fulness ten  thousand  times  greater  than  any  he  had  already 
exhibited!  Oh,  his  was  a  mind  to  have  instructed  sages, 
and  guided  the  moral  world!  This  is  all  we  have  left  of 
him!  The  eloquence  of  those  lips  is  gone!  The  incessant 
activity  of  that  heart  is  still!  The  best  and  wisest  of  men 
is  gone,  and  the  world  is  insensible  of  its  loss!" 

Mr.  Tyrrel  heard  the  intelligence  of  Mr.  Clare's  death 
with  emotion,  but  of  a  different  kind.  He  avowed  that 
heJhaxi-*re4i^forgiven  him  his  partial  attacl 
Falkland,  ana  therefore"  could  not  recall  his  remembrance 
wjth  kindness.  But  if  he  could  have  overlooked  his  past 
injustice,  sufficient  care,  it  seems,  was  taken  to  keep  alive 
his  resentment.  "Falkland,  forsooth,  attended  him  on  his 
deathbed,  as  if  nobody  else  were  worthy  of  his  confidential 
communications."     But  what  was  worst   of  all   was   this 


44  ADVENTURES  OF 

executorship.  "In  everything  this  pragmatical  rascal 
throws  me  behind.  Contemptible  wretch,  that  has  nothing 
of  the  man  about  him!  Must  he  perpetually  trample  upon 
his  betters?  Is  everybody  incapable  of  saying  what  kind 
of  stuff  a  man  is  made  of?  caught  with  mere  outside? 
choosing  the  flimsy  before  the  substantial?  And  upon  his 
deathbed  too! — [Mr.  Tyrrel,  with  his  uncultivated  brutal- 
ity, mixed,  as  usually  happens,  certain  rude  notions  of 
religion.] — Sure  the  sense  of  his  situation  might  have 
shamed  him.  Poor  wretch!  his  soul  has  a  great  deal  to 
answer  for.  He  has  made  my  pillow  uneasy;  and,  what- 
ever may  be  the  consequences,  we  have  to  thank  him  for 
them." 

The  death  of  Mr.  Clare  removed  the  person  who  could 
i  most  effectually  have  moderated  the  animosities  of  the  con- 
[  [tending  parties,  and  took  away  the  great  operative  check 
jupon  the  excesses  of  Mr.  Tyrrel.    This  rustic  tyrant  had 
been  held  in  involuntary  restraint  by  the  intellectual  as- 
cendency of  his  celebrated  neighbour;  and,  notwithstanding 
the  general  ferocity  of  his  temper,  he  did  not  appear  till 
lately  to  have  entertained  a  hatred  against  him.     In  the 
short  time   that   had  elapsed   from  the   period   in  which 
Mr.  Clare  had  fixed  his  residence  in  the  neighbourhood  to 
that  of  the  arrival  of  Mr.  Falkland  from  the  Continent, 
the  conduct  of  Mr.  Tyrrel  had  even  shown  tokens  of  im- 
provement.    He  would  indeed  have  been  better  satisfied 
not  to  have  had  even  this  intruder  into  a  circle  where  he 
had  been  accustomed  to  reign.     But  with  Mr.  Clare  he 
could  have  no  rivalship;   the  venerable  character  of  Mr. 
Clare  disposed  him  to  submission:  this  great  man  seemed 
to  have  survived  all  the  acrimony  of  contention,  and  all  the 
jealous  subtleties  of  a  mistaken  honour. 
i      The  effects  of  Mr.  Clare's  suavity,  however,  so  far  as 
^   1 1  related  to  Mr.  Tyrrel,  had  been  in  a  certain  degree  sus- 
pended by  considerations  of  rivalship  between  this  gentleman 
and  Mr.  Falkland.     And,  now  that  the  influence  of  Mr. 
Clare's  presence  and  virtues  was  entirely  removed,  Mr. 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  45 

Tyrrel's  temper  broke  out  into  more  criminal  excesses  than 
ever.  The  added  gloom  which  Mr.  Falkland's  neighbour- 
hood inspired  overflowed  upon  all  his  connexions;  and  the 
new  examples  of  his  sullenness  and  tyranny  which  every  day 
afforded  reflected  back  upon  this  accumulated  and  porten- 
tous feud. 


CHAPTER  SIX 

THE  consequences  of  all  this  speedily  manifested 
themselves.  The  very  next  incident  in  the  story 
was  in  some  degree  decisive  of  the  catastrophe. 
Hitherto  I  have  spoken  only  of  preliminary  matters,  seem- 
ingly unconnected  with  each  other,  though  leading  to  that 
state  of  mind  in  both  parties  which  had  such  fatal  effects. 
But  all  that  remains  is  rapid  and  tremendous.  The  death- 
dealing  mischief  advances  with  an  accelerated  motion,  ap- 
pearing to  defy  human  wisdom  and  strength  to  obstruct 
its  operation. 

The  vices  of  Mr.  Tyrrell,  in  their  present  state  of  aug- 
mentation, were  peculiarly  exercised  upon  his  domestics  and 
dependants.  But  the  principal  sufferer  was  the  young  lady 
mentioned  on  a  former  occasion,  the  orphan  daughter  of 
his  father's  sister.  Miss  Melville's  mother  had  married 
imprudently,  or  rather  unfortunately,  against  the  consent 
of  her  relations,  all  of  whom  had  agreed  to  withdraw  their 
countenance  from  her  in  consequence  of  that  precipitate 
step.  Her  husband  had  turned  out  to  be  no  better  than 
an  adventurer;  had  spent  her  fortune,  which,  in  consequence 
of  the  irreconcilableness  of  her  family,  was  less  than  he  ex- 
pected, and  had  broken  her  heart.  Her  infant  daughter 
was  left  without  any  resource.  In  this  situation  the  repre- 
sentations of  the  people  with  whom  she  happened  to  be 
placed  prevailed  upon  Mrs.  Tyrrel,  the  mother  of  the  squire, 
to  receive  her  into  her  family.  In  equity,  perhaps,  she 
was  entitled  to  that  portion  of  fortune  which  her  mother 
had  forfeited  by  her  imprudence,  and  which  had  gone  to 
swell  the  property  of  the  male  representative.  But  this  idea 
had  never  entered  into  the  conceptions  of  either  mother  or 
son.     Mrs.  Tyrrel  conceived  that  she  performed  an  act  of 

46 


/ 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  47 

the  most  exalted  benevolence  in  admitting  Miss  Emily 
into  a  sort  of  equivocal  situation,  which  was  neither  pre- 
cisely that  of  a  domestic,  nor  yet  marked  with  the  treatment 
that  might  seem  due  to  one  of  the  family. 

She  had  not,  however,  at  first  been  sensible  of  all  the 
mortifications  that  might  have  been  expected  from  her  con- 
dition. Mrs.  Tyrrel,  though  proud  and  imperious,  was  not 
ill-natured.  The  female  who  lived  in  the  family  in  the 
capacity  of  housekeeper  was  a  person  who  had  seen  better 
days,  and  whose  disposition  was  extremely  upright  and 
amiable.  She  early  contracted  a  friendship  for  the  little 
Emily,  who  was  indeed  for  the  most  part  committed  to 
her  care.  Emily,  on  her  side,  fully  repaid  the  affection  of 
her  instructress,  and  learned  with  great  docility  the  few 
accomplishments  Mrs.  Jakeman  was  able  to  communicate. 
But,  most  of  all,  she  imbibed  her  cheerful  and  artless  tem- 
per, that  extracted  the  agreeable  and  encouraging  from  all 
events,  and  prompted  her  to  communicate  her  sentiments, 
which  were  never  of  the  cynical  cast,  without  modification 
or  disguise.  Besides  the  advantages  Emily  derived  from 
Mrs.  Jakeman,  she  was  permitted  to  take  lessons  from  the 
masters  who  were  employed  at  Tyrrel  Place  for  the  instruc- 
tion of  her  cousin;  and,  indeed,  as  the  young  gentleman 
was  most  frequently  indisposed  to  attend  to  them,  they  would 
commonly  have  had  nothing  to  do,  had  it  not  been  for  the 
fortunate  presence  of  Miss  Melville.  Mrs.  Tyrrel  there- 
fore encouraged  the  studies  of  Emily  on  that  score;  in  addi- 
tion to  which  she  imagined  that  this  living  exhibition  of 
instruction  might  operate  as  an  indirect  allurement  to  her 
darling  Barnabas,  the  only  species  of  motive  she  would 
suffer  to  be  presented.  Force  she  absolutely  forbade;  and 
of  the  intrinsic  allurements  of  literature  and  knowledge 
she  had  no  conception. 

Emily,  as  she  grew  up,  displayed  an  uncommon  degree 
of  sensibility,  which  under  her  circumstances  would  have 
been  a  source  of  perpetual  dissatisfaction,  had  it  not  been 
qualified  with  an  extreme  sweetness  and  easiness  of  tern- 


48  ADVENTURES  OF 

per.     She  was  far  from  being  entitled  to  the  appellation 
of  a  beauty.    Her  person  was  petite  and  trivial;  her  com- 
plexion savoured  of  the  brunette;  and  her  face  was  marked 
with   the   small-pox,   sufficiently   to  destroy   its   evenness 
and  polish,  though  not  enough  to  destroy  its  expression. 
But  though  her  appearance  was  not  beautiful,  it  did  not 
fail  to  be  in  a  high  degree  engaging.    Her  complexion  was 
at  once  healthful  and  delicate;   her  long  dark  eyebrows 
adapted  themselves  with  facility  to  the  various  conceptions 
of  her  mind;  and  her  looks  bore  the  united  impression  of 
an  active  discernment  and  a  good-humoured  frankness.    The 
instruction  she  had  received,  as  it  was  entirely  of  a  casual 
nature,  exempted  her  from  the  evils  of  untutored  ignorance, 
but  not  from  a  sort  of  native  wildness,  arguing  a  mind  in- 
capable of  guile  itself,  or  of  suspecting  it  in  others.     She 
amused,  without  seeming  conscious  of  the  refined   sense 
which  her  observations  contained;  or  rather,  having  never 
been  debauched  with  applause,  she  set  light  by  her  own 
qualifications,  and  talked  from  the  pure  gayety  of  a  youthful 
heart  acting  upon  the  stores  of  a  just  understanding,  and 
not  with  any  expectation  of  being  distinguished  and  ad- 
mired. 

The  death  of  her  aunt  made  very  little  change  in  her 
situation.  This  prudent  lady,  who  would  have  thought  it 
little  less  than  sacrilege  to  have  considered  Miss  Melville 
as  a  branch  of  the  stock  of  the  Tyrrels,  took  no  more  no- 
tice of  her  in  her  will  than  barely  putting  her  down  for 
one  hundred  pounds  in  a  catalogue  of  legacies  to  her  serv- 
ants. She  had  never  been  admitted  into  the  intimacy  and 
confidence  of  Mrs.  Tyrrel;  and  the  young  squire,  now  that 
she  was  left  under  his  sole  protection,  seemed  inclined  to 
treat  her  with  even  more  liberality  than  his  mother  had 
done.  He  had  seen  her  grow  up  under  his  eye,  and  there- 
fore, though  there  were  but  six  years'  difference  in  their  ages, 
he  felt  a  kind  of  paternal  interest  in  her  welfare.  Habit 
had  rendered  her  in  a  manner  necessary  to  him,  and  in  every 
recess  from  the  occupations  of  the  field  and  the  pleasures 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  49 

of  the  table,  he  found  himself  solitary  and  forlorn  without 
the  society  of  Miss  Melville.     Nearness  of  kindred,  and 
Emily's  want  of  personal  beauty,  prevented  him  from  ever 
looking  on  her  with  the  eyes  of  desire.     Her  accomplish- 
ments were  chiefly  of  the  customary  and  superficial  kind, 
dancing  and  music.    Her  skill  in  the  first  led  him  sometimes 
to  indulge  her  with  a  vacant  corner  in  his  carriage,  when 
he  went  to  the  neighbouring  assembly;   and,  in  whatever 
light  he  might  himself  think  proper  to  regard  her,  he  would 
have  imagined  his  chambermaid,  introduced  by  him,  entitled 
to  an  undoubted  place  in  the  most  splendid  circle.     Her 
musical  talents  were  frequently  employed  for  his  amuse- 
ment.   She  had  the  honour  occasionally  of  playing  him  to 
sleep  after  the  fatigues  of  the  chase;  and,  as  he  had  some 
relish  for  harmonious  sounds,  she  was  frequently  able  to 
sooth  him  by  their  means  from  the  perturbations  of  which 
his  gloomy  disposition  was  so  eminently  a  slave.    Upon  the 
whole,  she  might  be  considered  as  in  some  sort  his  favourite. 
She  was  the  mediator  to  whom  his  tenants  and  domestics, 
when  they  had  incurred  his  displeasure,  were  accustomed 
to  apply;   the  privileged  companion,  that  could  approach 
this  lion  with  impunity  in  the  midst  of  his  roarings.     She 
spoke  to  him  without  fear;  her  solicitations  were  always 
good-natured  and  disinterested;  and  when  he  repulsed  her, 
he  disarmed  himself  of  half  his  terrors,  and  was  contented 
to  smile  at  her  presumption. 

Such  had  been  for  some  years  the  situation  of  Miss  Mel- 
ville. Its  precariousness  had  been  beguiled  by  the  uncom- 
mon forbearance  with  which  she  was  treated  by  her  savage 
protector.  But  his  disposition,  always  brutal,  had  acquired 
a  gradual  accession  of  ferocity  since  the  settlement  of  Mr. 
Falkland  in  his  neighbourhood.  He  now  frequently  forgot 
the  gentleness  with  which  he  had  been  accustomed  to  treat 
his  good-natured  cousin.  Her  little  playful  arts  were  not 
always  successful  in  softening  his  rage;  and  he  would  some- 
times turn  upon  her  blandishments  with  an  impatient  stern- 
ness that  made  her  tremble.    The  careless  ease  of  her  dis- 


50  ADVENTURES  OF 

position,  however,  soon  effaced  these  impressions,  and  she 
fell  without  variation  into  her  old  habits.  A  circumstance 
occurred  about  this  time  which  gave  peculiar  strength  to  the 
acrimony  of  Mr.  Tyrrel,  and  ultimately  brought  to  its  close 
the  felicity  that  Miss  Melville,  in  spite  of  the  frowns  of 
fortune,  had  hitherto  enjoyed.  Emily  was  exactly  seventeen 
when  Mr.  Falkland  returned  from  the  Continent.  At  this 
age  she  was  peculiarly  susceptible  of  the  charms  of  beauty, 
grace,  and  moral  excellence,  when  united  in  a  person  of  the 
other  sex.  She  was  imprudent,  precisely  because  her  own 
heart  was  incapable  of  guile.  She  had  never  yet  felt  the 
sting  of  the  poverty  to  which  she  was  condemned,  and  had 
not  reflected  on  the  insuperable  distance  that  custom  has 
placed  between  the  opulent  and  the  poorer  classes  of  the 
community.  She  beheld  Mr.  Falkland,  whenever  he  was 
thrown  in  her  way  at  any  of  the  public  meetings,  with 
admiration;  and,  without  having  precisely  explained  to  her- 
self the  sentiments  she  indulged,  her  eyes  followed  him 
through  all  the  changes  of  the  scene  with  eagerness  and 
impatience.  She  did  not  see  him,  as  the  rest  of  the  assem- 
bly did,  born  to  one  of  the  amplest  estates  in  the  county, 
and  qualified  to  assert  his  title  to  the  richest  heiress.  She 
thought  only  of  Falkland,  with  those  advantages  which  were 
most  intimately  his  own,  and  of  which  no  persecution  of 
adverse  fortune  had  the  ability  to  deprive  him.  In  a  word, 
she  was  transported  when  he  was  present;  he  was  the 
perpetual  subject  of  her  reveries  and  her  dreams;  but  his 
image  excited  no  sentiment  in  her  mind  beyond  that  of  the 
immediate  pleasure  she  took  in  his  idea. 

The  notice  Mr.  Falkland  bestowed  on  her  in  return 
appeared  sufficiently  encouraging  to  a  mind  so  full  of  pre- 
possession as  that  of  Emily.  There  was  a  particular  com- 
placency in  his  looks  when  directed  towards  her.  He  had 
said  in  a  company,  of  which  one  of  the  persons  present 
repeated  his  remarks  to  Miss  Melville,  that  she  appeared 
to  him  amiable  and  interesting;  that  he  felt  for  her  un- 
provided and  destitute  situation;  and  that  he  should  have 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  51 

been  glad  to  be  more  particular  in  his  attention  to  her,  had 
he  not  been  apprehensive  of  doing  her  a  prejudice  in  the 
suspicious  mind  of  Mr.  Tyrrel.  All  this  she  considered  as 
the  ravishing  condescension  of  a  superior  nature;  for,  if  she 
did  not  recollect  with  sufficient  assiduity  his  gifts  of  for- 
tune, she  was,  on  the  other  hand,  filled  with  reverence  for 
his  unrivalled  accomplishments.  But,  while  she  thus  seem- 
ingly disclaimed  all  comparison  between  Mr.  Falkland  and 
herself,  she  probably  cherished  a  confused  feeling  as  if 
some  event,  that  was  yet  in  the  womb  of  fate,  might  recon- 
cile things  apparently  the  most  incompatible.  Fraught  with 
these  prepossessions,  the  civilities  that  had  once  or  twice 
occurred  in  the  bustle  of  a  public  circle,  the  restoring  her 
fan  which  she  had  dropped,  or  the  disembarrassing  her  of 
an  empty  teacup,  made  her  heart  palpitate,  and  gave  birth 
to  the  wildest  chimeras  in  her  deluded  imagination. 

About  this  time  an  event  happened  that  helped  to  give 
a  precise  determination  to  the  fluctuations  of  Miss  Mel- 
ville's mind.  One  evening,  a  short  time  after  the  death 
of  Mr.  Clare,  Mr.  Falkland  had  been  at  the  house  of  his 
deceased  friend  in  his  quality  of  executor,  and,  by  some 
accidents  of  little  intrinsic  importance,  had  been  detained 
three  or  four  hours  later  than  he  expected.  He  did  not  set 
out  upon  his  return  till  two  o'clock  in  the  morning.  At  this 
time,  in  a  situation  so  remote  from  the  metropolis,  every- 
thing is  as  silent  as  it  would  be  in  a  region  wholly  unin- 
habited. The  moon  shone  bright;  and  the  objects  around 
being  marked  with  strong  variations  of  light  and  shade, 
gave  a  kind  of  sacred  solemnity  to  the  scene.  Mr.  Falk- 
land had  taken  Collins  with  him,  the  business  to  be  settled 
at  Mr.  Clare's  being  in  some  respects  similar  to  that  to 
which  this  faithful  domestic  had  been  accustomed  in  the 
routine  of  his  ordinary  service.  They  had  entered  into 
some  conversation,  for  Mr.  Falkland  was  not  then  in  the 
habit  of  obliging  the  persons  about  him  by  formality  and 
reserve  to  recollect  who  he  was.  The  attractive  solemnity 
of  the  scene  made  him  break  off  the  talk  somewhat  ab- 


52  ADVENTURES  OF 

ruptly,  that  he  might  enjoy  it  without  interruption.  They 
had  not  ridden  far  before  a  hollow  wind  seemed  to  rise 
at  a  distance,  and  they  could  hear  the  hoarse  roarings  of 
the  sea.  Presently  the  sky  on  one  side  assumed  the  appear- 
ance of  a  reddish  brown,  and  a  sudden  angle  in  the  road 
placed  this  phenomenon  directly  before  them.  As  they  pro- 
ceeded it  became  more  distinct,  and  it  was  at  length  suffi- 
ciently visible  that  it  was  occasioned  by  a  fire.  Mr.  Falk- 
land put  spurs  to  his  horse;  and,  as  they  approached,  the 
object  presented  every  instant  a  more  alarming  appearance. 
The  flames  ascended  with  fierceness;  they  embraced  a  large 
portion  of  the  horizon;  and,  as  they  carried  up  with  them 
numerous  little  fragments  of  the  materials  that  fed  them, 
impregnated  with  fire,  and  of  an  extremely  bright  and 
luminous  colour,  they  presented  some  feeble  image  of  the 
tremendous  eruption  of  a  volcano. 

The  flames  proceeded  from  a  village  directly  in  their 
road.  There  were  eight  or  ten  houses  already  on  fire,  and 
the  whole  seemed  to  be  threatened  with  immediate  destruc- 
tion. The  inhabitants  were  in  the  utmost  consternation, 
having  had  no  previous  experience  of  a  similar  calamity. 
They  conveyed  with  haste  their  moveables  and  furniture  into 
the  adjoining  fields.  When  any  of  them  had  effected  this 
as  far  as  it  could  be  attempted  with  safety,  they  were 
unable  to  conceive  any  further  remedy,  but  stood  wringing 
their  hands,  and  contemplating  the  ravages  of  the  fire  in 
an  agony  of  powerless  despair.  The  water  that  could  be 
procured,  in  any  mode  practised  in  that  place,  was  but  as  a 
drop  contending  with  an  element  in  arms.  The  wind  in 
the  meantime  was  rising,  and  the  flames  spread  with  more 
and  more  rapidity. 

Mr.  Falkland  contemplated  this  scene  for  a  few  moments, 
as  if  ruminating  with  himself  as  to  what  could  be  done. 
He  then  directed  some  of  the  country  people  about  him 
to  pull  down  a  house,  next  to  one  that  was  wholly  on  fire, 
but  which  itself  was  yet  untouched.  They  seemed  aston- 
ished at  a  direction  which  implied  a  voluntary  destruction 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  53 

of  property,  and  considered  the  task  as  too  much  in  the 
heart  of  the  danger  to  be  undertaken.  Observing  that  they 
were  motionless,  he  dismounted  from  his  horse,  and  called 
upon  them  in  an  authoritative  voice  to  follow  him.  He 
ascended  the  house  in  an  instant,  and  presently  appeared 
upon  the  top  of  it,  as  if  in  the  midst  of  the  flames.  Having, 
with  the  assistance  of  two  or  three  of  the  persons  that  fol- 
lowed him  most  closely,  and  who  by  this  time  had  supplied 
themselves  with  whatever  tools  came  next  to  hand,  loosened 
the  support  of  a  stack  of  chimneys,  he  pushed  them  head- 
long into  the  midst  of  the  fire.  He  passed  and  repassed 
along  the  roof;  and,  having  set  people  to  work  in  all  parts, 
descended  in  order  to  see  what  could  be  done  in  any  other 
quarter. 

At  this  moment  an  elderly  woman  burst  from  the  midst 
of  a  house  in  flames:  the  utmost  consternation  was  painted 
in  her  looks;  and,  as  soon  as  she  could  recollect  herself 
enough  to  have  a  proper  idea  of  her  situation,  the  subject 
of  her  anxiety  seemed,  in  an  instant,  to  be  totally  changed. 
" Where  is  my  child?"  cried  she,  and  cast  an  anxious  and 
piercing  look  among  the  surrounding  crowd.  "Oh,  she  is 
lost!  she  is  in  the  midst  of  flames!  Save  her!  save  her! 
my  child!"  She  filled  the  air  with  heartrending  shrieks. 
She  turned  towards  the  house.  The  people  that  were  near 
endeavoured  to  prevent  her,  but  she  shook  them  off  in  a 
moment.  She  entered  the  passage;  viewed  the  hideous 
ruin;  and  was  then  going  to  plunge  into  the  blazing  stair- 
case. Mr.  Falkland  saw,  pursued,  and  seized  her  by  the 
arm;  it  was  Mrs.  Jakeman.  "Stop!"  he  cried,  with  a  voice 
of  grand  yet  benevolent  authority.  "Remain  you  in  the 
street!  I  will  seek,  and  will  save  her!"  Mrs.  Jakeman 
obeyed.  He  charged  the  persons  who  were  near  to  detain 
her;  he  inquired  which  was  the  apartment  of  Emily.  Mrs. 
Jakeman  was  upon  a  visit  to  a  sister  who  lived  in  the  vil- 
lage, and  had  brought  Emily  along  with  her.  Mr.  Falkland 
ascended  a  neighbouring  house,  and  entered  that  in  which 
Emily  was  by  a  window  in  the  roof. 


54  ADVENTURES  OF 

He  founa  her  already  awaked  from  her  sleep;  and,  be- 
coming sensible  of  her  danger,  she  had  that  instant  wrapped 
a  loose  gown  round  her.  Such  is  the  almost  irresistible 
result  of  feminine  habits;  but,  having  done  this,  she  exam- 
ined the  surrounding  objects  with  the  wildness  of  despair. 
Mr.  Falkland  entered  the  chamber.  She  flew  into  his  arms 
with  the  rapidity  of  lightning.  She  embraced  and  clung  to 
him,  with  an  impulse  that  did  not  wait  to  consult  the  dic- 
tates of  her  understanding.  Her  emotions  were  indescriba- 
ble. In  a  few  short  moments  she  had  lived  an  age  in  love. 
In  two  minutes  Mr.  Falkland  was  again  in  the  street  with 
his  lovely  half-naked  burthen  in  his  arms.  Having  restored 
her  to  her  affectionate  protector,  snatched  from  the  imme- 
diate grasp  of  death,  from  which,  if  he  had  not,  none  would 
have  delivered  her,  he  returned  to  his  former  task.  By 
his  presence  of  mind,  by  his  indefatigable  humanity  and 
incessant  exertions,  he  saved  three-fourths  of  the  village 
from  destruction. 

The  conflagration  being  at  length  abated,  he  sought  again 
Mrs.  Jakeman  and  Emily,  who  by  this  time  had  obtained 
a  substitute  for  the  garments  she  had  lost  in  the  fire.  He 
displayed  the  tenderest  solicitude  for  the  young  lady's 
safety,  and  directed  Collins  to  go  with  as  much  speed  as 
he  could,  and  send  his  chariot  to  attend  her.  More  than 
an  hour  elapsed  in  this  interval.  Miss  Melville  had  never 
seen  so  much  of  Mr.  Falkland  upon  any  former  occasion; 
and  the  spectacle  of  such  humanity,  delicacy,  firmness^  and 
justice  in  the  form  ol  man,  a&"hc  ■tuuWdlid  mTb  this  small 
space,  was  altogether  new  to  her,  and  in  the  highest  degree 
fascinating.  She  had  a  confused  feeling  as  if  there  had  been 
something  indecorous  in  her  behaviour  or  appearance  when 
Mr.  Falkland  had  appeared  to  her  relief;  and  this  com- 
bined with  her  other  emotions  to  render  the  whole  critical 
and  intoxicating. 

Emily  no  sooner  arrived  at  the  family  mansion  than  Mr. 
Tyrrel  ran  out  to  receive  her.  He  had  just  heard  of  the 
melancholy  accident  that  had  taken  place  at  the  village, 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  55 

and   was  terrified   for   the   safety   of  his   good-humoured 
cousin.    He  displayed  those  unpremeditated  emotions  which 
are  common  to  almost  every  individual  of  the  human  race. 
He  was  greatly  shocked  at  the  suspicion  that  Emily  might u~oA 
possibly  have  become  the  victim  of  a  catastrophe  which  Jr     ^ 
had  thus  broken  out  in  the  dead  of  night.    His  sensations 
were  of  the  most  pleasing  sort  when  he  folded  her  in  his 
arms,  and  fearful  apprehension  was  instantaneously  con- 
verted  into   joyous  certainty.     Emily  no   sooner   entered 
under  the  well-known  roof  than  her  spirits  were  brisk,  and 
her  tongue  incessant  in  describing  her  danger  and  her  de- 
liverance.    Mr.  Tyrrel  had   formerly  been   tortured  with 
the  innocent  eulogiums  she  pronounced  of  Mr.  Falkland. 
But  these  were  tameness  itself,  compared  with  the  rich  and 
various  eloquence  that  now  flowed  from  her  lips.    Love  had 
not  the  same  effect  upon  her,  especially  at  the  present  mo- 
ment, which  it  would  have  had  upon  a  person  instructed 
to  feign  a  blush,  and  inured  to  a  consciousness  of  wrong. 
She  described  his  activity  and  resources,  the  promptitude 
with  which  everything  was  conceived,  and  the  cautious  but 
daring  wisdom  with  which  it  was  executed.    All  was  fairy- 
land and  enchantment  in  the  tenor  of  her  artless  tale;  you 
saw  a  beneficent  genius  surveying  and  controlling  the  whole, 
but  could  have  no  notion  of  any  human  means  by  which 
his  purposes  were  effected. 

Mr.  Tyrrel  listened  for  awhile  to  these  innocent  effusions 
with  patience;  he  could  even  bear  to  hear  the  man  ap- 
plauded by  whom  he  had  just  obtained  so  considerable  a 
benefit.  But  the  theme  by  amplification  became  nauseous, 
and  he  at  length  with  some  roughness  put  an  end  to  the 
tale.  Probably,  upon  recollection,  it  appeared  still  more 
insolent  and  intolerable  than  while  it  was  passing;  the  sen- 
sation of  gratitude  wore  off,  but  the  hyperbolical  praise 
that  had  been  bestowed  still  haunted  his  memory,  and 
sounded  in  his  ear; — Emily  had  entered  into  the  confeder- 
acy that  disturbed  his  repose.  For  herself,  she  was  wholly 
unconscious  of  offence,  and  upon  every  occasion  quoted 


56  ADVENTURES  OF 

Mr.  Falkland  as  the  model  of  elegant  manners  and  true 
wisdom.  She  was  a  total  stranger  to  dissimulation;  and 
she  could  not  conceive  that  any  one  beheld  the  subject  of 
her  admiration  with  less  partiality  than  herself.  Her  art- 
less love  became  more  fervent  than  ever.  She  flattered 
herself  that  nothing  less  than  a  reciprocal  passion  could 
have  prompted  Mr.  Falkland  to  the  desperate  attempt  of 
saving  her  from  the  flames;  and  she  trusted  that  this  pas- 
sion would  speedily  declare  itself,  as  well  as  induce  the 
object  of  her  adoration  to  overlook  her  comparative  un- 
worthiness. 

Mr.  Tyrrel  endeavoured  at  first  with  some  moderation 
to  check  Miss  Melville  in  her  applause,  and  to  convince 
her  by  various  tokens  that  the  subject  was  disagreeable  to 
him.  He  was  accustomed  to  treat  her  with  kindness.  Em- 
ily, on  her  part,  was  disposed  to  yield  an  unreluctant  obe- 
dience, and  therefore  it  was  not  difficult  to  restrain  her. 
But  upon  the  very  next  occasion  her  favourite  topic  would 
force  its  way  to  her  lips.  Her  obedience  was  the  acqui- 
escence of  a  frank  and  benevolent  heart;  but  it  was  the 
most  difficult  thing  in  the  world  to  inspire  her  with  fear. 
Conscious  herself  that  she  would  not  hurt  a  worm,  she 
could  not  conceive  that  any  one  would  harbour  cruelty  and 
rancour  against  her.  Her  temper  had  preserved  her  from 
obstinate  contention  with  the  persons  under  whose  protec- 
tion she  was  placed;  and,  as  her  compliance  was  unhesi- 
tating, she  had  no  experience  of  a  severe  and  rigorous  treat- 
ment. As  Mr.  Tyrrel's  objection  to  the  very  name  of  Falk- 
land became  more  palpable  and  uniform,  Miss  Melville 
increased  in  her  precaution.  She  would  stop  herself  in  the 
half-pronounced  sentences  that  were  meant  to  his  praise. 
This  circumstance  had  necessarily  an  ungracious  effect; 
it  was  a  cutting  satire  upon  the  imbecility  of  her  kinsman. 
Upon  these  occasions  she  would  sometimes  venture  upon 
a  good-humoured  expostulation: — "Dear  sir!  well,  I  wonder 
how  you  can  be  so  ill-natured!     I  am  sure  Mr.  Falkland 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  57 

would  do  you  any  good  office  in  the  world:" — till  she  was 
checked  by  some  gesture  of  impatience  and  fierceness. 

At  length  she  wholly  conquered  her  heedlessness  and  in- 
attention. But  it  was  too  late.  Mr.  Tyrrel  already  sus- 
pected the  existence  of  that  passion  which  she  had  thought- 
lessly imbibed.  His  imagination,  ingenious  in  torment,  sug- 
gested to  him  all  the  different  openings  in  conversation,  in 
which  she  would  have  introduced  the  praise  of  Mr.  Falk- 
land, had  she  not  been  placed  under  this  unnatural  re- 
straint. Her  present  reserve  upon  the  subject  was  even 
more  insufferable  than  her  former  loquacity.  All  his  kind- 
ness for  this  unhappy  orphan  gradually  subsided.  Her 
partiality  for  the  man  who  was  the  object  of  his  unbounded 
abhorrence  appeared  to  him  as  the  last  persecution  of  a 
malicious  destiny.  He  figured  himself  as  about  to  be  de- 
serted by  every  creature  in  human  form;  all  men,  under 
the  influence  of  a  fatal  enchantment,  approving  only  what 
was  sophisticated  and  artificial,  and  holding  the  rude  and 
genuine  offspring  of  nature  in  mortal  antipathy.  Impressed 
with  these  gloomy  presages,  he  saw  Miss  Melville  with  no 
sentiments  but  those  of  rancorous  aversion ;  and,  accustomed 
as  he  was  to  the  uncontrolled  indulgence  of  his  propensities, 
he  determined  to  wreak  upon  her  a  signal  revenge. 


M: 


CHAPTER  SEVEN 

R.  TYRREL  consulted  his  old  confidant  respect- 
ing the  plan  he  should  pursue;  who,  sympathizing 
as  he  did  in  the  brutality  and  insolence  of  his 
friend,  had  no  idea  that  an  insignificant  girl,  without  either 
wealth  or  beauty,  ought  to  be  allowed  for  a  moment  to 
stand  in  the  way  of  the  gratifications  of  a  man  of  Mr. 
Tyrrel's  importance.  The  first  idea  of  her  now  unrelenting 
kinsman  was  to  thrust  her  from  his  doors,  and  leave  her 
to  seek  her  bread  as  she  could.  But  he  was  conscious  that 
this  proceeding  would  involve  him  in  considerable  obloquy; 
and  he  at  length  fixed  upon  a  scheme  which,  at  the  same 
time  that  he  believed  it  would  sufficiently  shelter 
tatiorj^wi)uld  much  more  certainly  secure""Eer  mortification 
•"  and  punishment. 

For  this  purposj^^rtTftxed  upon  a  young  man  of  twenty 
the  son  of  one  urimes^Vho  occupied  a  small  farm,  th 
property  of  his  cormrMf:  This  fellow  he  resolved  to  impose 
as  a  husband  on  Miss  Melville,  who,  he  shrewdly  suspected, 
guided  by  the  tender  sentiments  she  had  unfortunately  con- 
ceived for  Mr.  Falkland,  would  listen  with  reluctance  to 
any  matrimonial  proposal.  Grimes  he  selected  as  being  in 
all  respects  the  diametrical  reverse  of  Mr.  Falkland.  He 
was  not  precisely  a  lad  of  vicious  propensities,  but  in  an 
inconceivable  degree  boorish  and  uncouth.  His  complexion 
was  scarcely  human ;  his  features  were  coarse,  and  strangely 
discordant  and  disjointed  from  each  other.  His  lips  were 
thick,  and  the  tone  of  his  voice  broad  and  unmodulated. 
His  legs  were  of  equal  size  from  one  end  to  the  other, 
and  his  feet  misshapen  and  clumsy.  He  had  nothing  spite- 
ful or  malicious  in  his  disposition,  but  he  was  a  total  stranger 
to  tenderness;  he  could  not  feel  for  those  refinements  in 

58 


n 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  59 

others  of  which  he  had  no  experience  in  himself.  He  was 
an  expert  boxer:  his  inclination  led  him  to  such  amusements 
as  were  most  boisterous;  and  he  delighted  in  a  sort  of 
manual  sarcasm,  which  he  could  not  conceive  to  be  very 
injurious,  as  it  left  no  traces  behind  it.  His  general  man- 
ners were  noisy  and  obstreperous;  inattentive  to  others; 
and  obstinate  and  unyielding,  not  from  any  cruelty  and 
ruggedness  of  temper,  but  from  an  incapacity  to  conceive 
those  finer  feelings  that  make  so  large  a  part  of  the  history 
of  persons  who  are  cast  in  a  gentler  mould. 

Such  was  the  uncouth  and  half-civilized  animal  which 
the  industrious  malice  of  Mr.  Tyrrel  fixed  upon  as  most 
happily  adapted  to  his  purpose.  Emily  had  hitherto  been 
in  an  unusual  degree  exempted  from  the  oppression  of  des- 
potism. Her  happy  insignificance  had  served  her  as  a 
protection.  No  one  thought  it  worth  his  while  to  fetter  her 
with  those  numerous  petty  restrictions  with  which  the 
daughters  of  opulence  are  commonly  tormented.  She  had 
the  wildness,  as  well  as  the  delicate  frame,  of  the  bird  that 
warbles  unmolested  in  its  native  groves. 

When,  therefore,  she  heard  from  her  kinsman  the  pro- 
posal of  Mr.  Grimes  for  a  husband,  she  was  for  a  moment 
silent  with  astonishment  at  so  unexpected  a  suggestion. 
But  as  soon  as  she  recovered  her  speech,  she  replied,  "No, 
sir,  I  do  not  want  a  husband." 

"You  do!  Are  not  you  always  hankering  after  the  men? 
It  is  high  time  you  should  be  settled." 

"Mr.  Grimes!  No,  indeed!  when  I  do  have  a  husband, 
it  shall  not  be  such  a  man  as  Mr.  Grimes  neither." 

"Be  silent!  How  dare  you  give  yourself  such  unac- 
countable liberties?" 

"Lord,  I  wonder  what  I  should  do  with  him.  You  might 
as  well  give  me  your  great  rough  water-dog,  and  bid  me 
make  him  a  silk  cushion  to  lie  in  my  dressing-room.  Be- 
sides, sir,  Grimes  is  a  common  labouring  man,  and  I  am 
sure  I  have  always  heard  my  aunt  say  that  ours  is  a  very 
great  family." 


60  ADVENTURES  OF 

"It  is  a  lie!  Our  family!  have  you  the  impudence  to 
think  yourself  one  of  our  family?" 

"Why,  sir,  was  not  your  grandpapa  my  grandpapa? 
How  then  can  we  be  of  a  different  family?" 

"From  the  strongest  reason  in  the  world.  You  are  the 
daughter  of  a  rascally  Scotchman,  who  spent  every  shilling 
of  my  aunt  Lucy's  fortune,  and  left  you  a  beggar.  You 
have  got  a  hundred  pounds,  and  Grimes's  father  promises 
to  give  him  as  much.  How  dare  you  look  down  upon  your 
equals?" 

"Indeed,  sir,  I  am  not  proud.  But,  indeed,  and  indeed, 
I  can  never  love  Mr.  Grimes.  I  am  very  happy  as  I  am: 
why  should  I  be  married?" 

"Silence  your  prating!  Grimes  will  be  here  this  after- 
noon. Look  that  you  behave  well  to  him.  If  you  do  not, 
he  will  remember  and  repay,  when  you  least  like  it." 

"Nay,  I  am  sure,  sir — you  are  not  in  earnest?" 

"Not  in  earnest!  Damn  me,  but  we  will  see  that.  I 
can  tell  what  you  would  be  at.  You  had  rather  be  Mr. 
Falkland's  miss,  than  the  wife  of  a  plain  downright  yeoman. 
But  I  shall  take  care  of  you. — Ay,  this  comes  of  indul- 
gence. You  must  be  taken  down,  miss.  You  must  be  taught 
the  difference  between  high-flown  notions  and  realities. 
Mayhap  you  may  take  it  a  little  in  dudgeon  or  so;  but 
never  mind  that.  Pride  always  wants  a  little  smarting. 
If  you  should  be  brought  to  shame,  it  is  I  that  shall  bear 
the  blame  of  it." 

The  tone  in  which  Mr.  Tyrrel  spoke  was  so  different 
from  anything  to  which  Miss  Melville  had  been  accus- 
tomed, that  she  felt  herself  wholly  unable  to  determine  what 
construction  to  put  upon  it.  Sometimes  he  thoughtTshe  had 
really  formed  a  plan  for  imposing  upon  her  a  condition  that 
she  could  not  bear  so  much  as  to  think  of.  But  presently 
she  rejected  this  idea  as  an  unworthy  imputation  upon  her 
kinsman,  and  concluded  that  it  was  only  his  way,  and 
that  all  he  meant  was  to  try  her.  To  be  resolved,  however, 
she  determined  to  consult  her  constant  adviser,  Mrs.  Jake- 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  61 

man,  and  accordingly  repeated  to  her  what  had  passed. 
Mrs.  Jakeman  saw  the  whole  in  a  very  different  light  from 
that  in  which  Emily  had  conceived  it,  and  trembled  for  the 
future  peace  of  her  beloved  ward. 

"Lord  bless  me,  my  dear  mamma! "  cried  Emily  (this  was 
the  appellation  she  delighted  to  bestow  upon  the  good 
housekeeper),  "you  cannot  think  so?  But  I  do  not  care. 
I  will  never  marry  Grimes,  happen  what  will." 

"But  how  will  you  help  yourself?  My  master  will  oblige 
you." 

"Nay,  now  you  think  you  are  talking  to  a  child  indeed. 
It  is  I  am  to  have  the  man,  not  Mr.  Tyrrel.  Do  you  think 
I  will  let  anybody  else  choose  a  husband  for  me?  I  am 
not  such  a  fool  as  that  neither." 

"Ah,  Emily!  you  little  know  the  disadvantages  of  your 
situation.  Your  cousin  is  a  violent  man,  and  perhaps  will 
turn  you  out  of  doors,  if  you  oppose  him." 

"Oh,  mamma!  it  is  very  wicked  of  you  to  say  so.  I  am 
sure  Mr.  Tyrrel  is  a  very  good  man,  though  he  be  a  little 
cross  now  and  then.  He  knows  very  well  that  I  am  right 
to  have  a  will  of  my  own  in  such  a  thing  as  this,  and  no- 
body is  punished  for  doing  what  is  right." 

"Nobody  ought,  my  dear  child.  But  there  are  very 
wicked  and  tyrannical  men  in  the  world." 

"Well,  well,  I  will  never  believe  my  cousin  is  one  of 
these." 

"I  hope  he  is  not." 

"And  if  he  were,  what  then?  To  be  sure  I  should  be 
very  sorry  to  make  him  angry." 

"What  then?  Why  then  my  poor  Emily  would  be  a 
beggar!     Do  you  think  I  could  bear  to  see  that?" 

"No,  no.  Mr.  Tyrrel  has  just  told  me  that  I  have  a 
hundred  pounds.  But  if  I  had  no  fortune,  is  not  that  the 
case  with  a  thousand  other  folks?  Why  should  I  grieve, 
for  what  they  bear  and  are  merry?  Do  not  make  your- 
self uneasy,  mamma.  I  am  determined  that  I  will  do  any- 
thing rather  than  marry  Grimes;  that  is  what  I  will." 


62  ADVENTURES  OF 

Mrs.  Jakeman  could  not  bear  the  uneasy  state  of  sus- 
pense in  which  this  conversation  left  her  mind,  and  went 
immediately  to  the  squire  to  have  her  doubts  resolved.  The 
manner  in  which  she  proposed  the  question  sufficiently  in- 
dicated the  judgment  she  had  formed  of  the  match. 

"That  is  true,"  said  Mr.  Tyrrel,  "I  wanted  to  speak  to 
you  about  this  affair.  The  girl  has  got  unaccountable  no- 
tions in  her  head,  that  will  be  the  ruin  of  her.  You  per- 
haps can  tell  where  she  had  them.  But,  be  that  as  it  will, 
it  is  high  time  something  should  be  done.  The  shortest 
way  is  the  best,  and  to  keep  things  well  while  they  are 
well.  In  short,  I  am  determined  she  shall  marry  this  lad; 
you  do  not  know  any  harm  of  him,  do  you?  You  have  a 
good  deal  of  influence  with  her,  and  I  desire,  do  you  see, 
that  you  will  employ  it  to  lead  her  to  her  good;  you  had 
best,  I  can  tell  you.  She  is  a  pert  vixen!  By-and-by  she 
would  become  a  whore,  and  at  last  no  better  than  a 
common  trull,  and  rot  upon  a  dunghill,  if  I  were  not  at 
all  these  pains  to  save  her  from  destruction.  I  would  make 
her  an  honest  farmer's  wife,  and  my  pretty  miss  cannot 
bear  the  thoughts  of  it!" 

In  the  afternoon  Grimes  came  according  to  appointment, 
and  was  left  alone  with  the  young  lady. 

"Well,  miss,"  said  he,  "it  seems  the  squire  has  a  mind 
to  make  us  man  and  wife.  For  my  part,  I  cannot  say  I 
should  have  thought  of  it.  But,  being  as  how  the  squire 
has  broke  the  ice,  if  so  be  as  you  like  of  the  match,  why 
I  am  your  man.  Speak  the  word;  a  nod  is  as  good  as  a 
wink  to  a  blind  horse." 

Emily  was  already  sufficiently  mortified  at  the  unex- 
pected proposal  of  Mr.  Tyrrel.  She  was  confounded  at 
the  novelty  of  the  situation,  and  still  more  at  the  uncul- 
tivated rudeness  of  her  lover,  which  even  exceeded  her 
expectation.  This  confusion  was  interpreted  by  Grimes 
into  diffidence. 

"Come,  come,  never  be  cast  down.  Put  a  good  face 
upon  it.     What  though?     My  first  sweetheart  was   Bet 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  63 

Butterfield ;  but  what  of  that?     What  must  be  must  be; 
grief  will  never  fill  the  belly.     She  was  a  fine  strapping 
wench,  that  is  the  truth  of  it!  five  foot  ten  inches,  and  as 
stout  as  a  trooper.     Oh,  she  would  do  a  power  of  work! 
Up  early  and  down  late;   milked  ten  cows  with  her  own 
hands;  on  with  her  cardinal,  rode  to  market  between  her 
panniers,  fair  weather  and  foul,  hail,  blow,  or  snow.     It 
would  have  done  your  heart  good  to  have  seen  her  frost- 
bitten cheeks,  as  red  as  a  beef  en  from  her  own  orchard! 
Ah !  she  was  a  maid  of  mettle ;  would  romp  with  the  harvest- 
men,    slap    one    upon    the    back,    wrestle    with    another, 
and  had  a  rogue's  trick  and  a  joke  for  all  round.     Poor 
girl!  she  broke  her  neck  down-stairs  at  a  christening.     To 
be  sure  I  shall  never  meet  her  fellow!     But  never  you  mind 
that;  I  do  not  doubt  that  I  shall  find  more  in  you  upon 
further  acquaintance.    As  coy  and  bashful  as  you  seem,  I 
dare  say  you  are  rogue  enough  at  bottom.     When  I  have 
touzled  and  rumpled  you  a  little,  we  shall  see.     I  am  no 
chicken,  miss,  whatever  you  may  think.     I  know  what  is 
what,  and  can  see  as  far  into  a  millstone  as  another.    Ay, 
ay;  you  will  come  to.    The  fish  will  snap  at  the  bait,  never 
doubt  it.    Yes,  yes,  we  shall  rub  on  main  well  together. " 
Emily  by  this  time  had  in  some  degree  mustered  up  her 
spirits,  and  began,  though  with  hesitation,  to  thank  Mr. 
Grimes  for  his  good  opinion,  but  to  confess  that  she  could 
never  be  brought  to  favour  his  addresses.     She  therefore 
entreated  him  to  desist  from  all  further  application.    This 
remonstrance  on  her  part  would  have  become  more  intel- 
ligible, had  it  not  been   for  his  boisterous  manners  and 
extravagant  cheerfulness,  which  indisposed  him  to  silence, 
and  made  him  suppose  that  at  half  a  word  he  had  suffi- 
cient intimation  of  another's  meaning.    Mr.  Tyrrel,  in  the 
meantime,  was   too  impatient  not   to  interrupt  the  scene 
before  they  could  have  time  to  proceed  far  in  explanation: 
and  he  was  studious  in  the  sequel  to  prevent  the  young 
folks    from    being    too    intimately    acquainted    with    each 
other's  inclinations.    Grimes,  of  consequence,  attributed  the 


64  ADVENTURES  OF 

reluctance  of  Miss  Melville  to  maiden  coyness  and  the  skit- 
tish shyness  of  an  unbroken  filly.  Indeed,  had  it  been 
otherwise,  it  is  not  probable  that  it  would  have  nude  any 
effectual  impression  upon  him;  as  he  was  always  accus- 
tomed to  consider  women  as  made  for  the  recreation  of 
the  men,  and  to  exclaim  against  the  weakness  oi  people 
who  taught  them  to  imagine  they  were  to  judge  lor  them- 
selves. 

As  the  suit  proceeded,  and  Miss  Melville  saw  more  of 
her  new  admirer,  her  antipathy  increased.  But,  though 
her  character  was  unspoiled  by  those  false  wants,  which 
frequently  made  people  of  family  miserable  while  they 
have  everything  that  nature  requires  within  their  reach, 
yet  she  had  been  little  used  to  opposition,  and  was  terri- 
fied at  the  growing  sternness  of  her  kinsman.  Sometimes 
she  thought  of  flying  from  a  house  which  was  now  become 
her  dungeon;  but  the  habits  of  her  youth,  and  her  igno- 
rance of  the  world,  made  her  shrink  from  this  project, 
when  she  contemplated  it  more  nearly.  Mrs.  Jakeman,  in- 
deed, could  not  think  with  patience  of  young  Grimes  as  a 
husband  for  her  darling  Emily;  but  her  prudence  deter- 
mined her  to  resist  with  all  her  might  the  idea  on  the  part 
of  the  young  lady  of  proceeding  to  extremities.  She  could 
not  believe  that  Mr.  Tyrrel  would  persist  in  such  an  un- 
accountable persecution,  and  she  exhorted  Miss  Melville 
to  forget  for  a  moment  the  unaffected  independence  of  her 
character,  and  pathetically  to  deprecate  her  cousin's  ob- 
stinacy. She  had  great  confidence  in  the  ingenuous  elo- 
quence of  her  ward.  Mrs.  Jakeman  did  not  know  what 
was  passing  in  the  breast  of  the  tyrant. 

Miss  Melville  complied  with  the  suggestion  of  her 
mamma.  One  morning,  immediately  after  breakfast,  she 
went  to  her  harpsichord,  and  played  one  after  another 
several  of  those  airs  that  were  most  the  favourites  of  Mr. 
Tyrrel.  Mrs.  Jakeman  had  retired;  the  servants  were  gone 
to  their  respective  employments.  Mr.  Tyrrel  would  have 
gone  also;  his  mind  was  untuned,  and  he  did  not  take  the 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  65 

pleasure  he  had  been  accustomed  to  take  in  the  musical 
performances  of  Emily.  But  her  finger  was  now  more 
tasteful  than  common.  Her  mind  was  probably  wrought 
up  to  a  firmer  and  bolder  tone,  by  the  recollection  of  the 
cause  she  was  going  to  plead;  at  the  same  time  that  it  was 
exempt  from  those  incapacitating  tremors  which  would  have 
been  felt  by  one  that  dared  not  look  poverty  in  the  face. 
Mr.  Tyrrel  was  unable  to  leave  the  apartment.  Sometimes 
he  traversed  it  with  impatient  steps;  then  he  hung  over 
the  poor  innocent  whose  powers  were  exerted  to  please 
him;  at  length  he  threw  himself  in  a  chair  opposite,  with 
his  eyes  turned  towards  Emily.  It  was  easy  to  trace  the 
progress  of  his  emotions.  The  furrows  into  which  his 
countenance  was  contracted  were  gradually  relaxed;  his 
features  were  brightened  into  a  smile;  the  kindness  with 
which  he  had  upon  former  occasions  contemplated  Emily 
seemed  to  revive  in  his  heart. 

Emily  watched  her  opportunity.  As  soon  as  she  had 
finished  one  of  the  pieces,  she  rose  and  went  to  Mr.  Tyrrel. 

"Now,  have  not  I  done  it  nicely?  and  after  this  will  not 
you  give  me  a  reward?" 

"A  reward!     Ay,  come  here,  and  I  will  give  you  a  kiss." 

"No,  that  is  not  it.  And  yet  you  have  not  kissed  me 
this  many  a  day.  Formerly,  you  said  you  loved  me,  and 
called  me  your  Emily.  I  am  sure  you  did  not  love  me 
better  than  I  loved  you.  You  have  not  forgotten  all  the 
kindness  you  once  had  for  me?"  added  she,  anxiously. 

"Forgot?  No,  no.  How  can  you  ask  such  a  question? 
You  shall  be  my  dear  Emily  still!" 

"Ah,  those  were  happy  times!"  she  replied,  a  little 
mournfully.  "Do  you  know,  cousin,  I  wish  I  could  wake, 
and  find  that  the  last  month — only  about  a  month — was  a 
dream?" 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that?"  said  Mr.  Tyrrel,  with 
an  altered  voice.  "Have  a  care!  Do  not  put  me  out  of 
humour.     Do  not  come  with  your  romantic  notions  now." 

"No,  no:   I  have  no  romantic  notions  in  my  head.     I 


v\tc 
h( 


-4 


66  ADVENTURES  OF 

speak  of  something  upon  which  the  happiness  of  my  life 
depends." 

"I  see  what  you  would  be  at.  Be  silent.  You  know  it 
is  to  no  purpose  to  plague  me  with  your  stubbornness. 
You  will  not  let  me  be  in  a  good  humour  with  you  for  a 
moment.  What  my  mind  is  determined  upon  about  Grimes 
all  the  world  shall  not  move  me  to  give  up." 

"Dear,  dear  cousin!  why,  but  consider  now.  Grimes  is 
a  rough,  rustic  lout,  like  Orson  in  the  story-book.  He 
wants  a  wife  like  himself.  He  would  be  as  uneasy  and  as 
much  at  a  loss  with  me,  as  I  with  him.  Why  should  we 
both  of  us  be  forced  to  do  what  neither  of  us  is  inclined 
vto?  I  cannot  think  what  could  ever  have  put  it  into  your 
lead.  But  now,  for  goodness'  sake,  give  it  up!  Marriage 
is  a  serious  thing.  You  should  not  think  of  joining  two 
people  for  a  whim,  who  are  neither  of  them  fit  for  one 
another  in  any  respect  in  the  world.  We  should  feel  mor- 
tified and  disappointed  all  our  lives.  Month  would  go 
after  month,  and  year  after  year,  and  I  could  never  hope 
to  be  my  own,  but  by  the  death  of  a  person  I  ought  to 
love.  I  am  sure,  sir,  you  cannot  mean  me  all  this  harm. 
What  have  I  done,  that  I  should  deserve  to  have  you  for 
an  enemy?" 

"I  am  not  your  enemy.  I  tell  you  that  it  is  necessary 
to  put  you  out  of  harm's  way.  But,  if  I  were  your  enemy, 
I  could  not  be  a  worse  torment  to  you  than  you  are  to  me. 
Are  not  you  continually  singing  the  praises  of  Falkland? 
Are  you  in  love  with  Falkland?  That  man  is  a  legion  of 
devils  to  me!  I  might  as  well  have  been  a  beggar!  I 
might  as  well  have  been  a  dwarf  or  a  monster!  Time  was 
when  I  was  thought  entitled  to  respect.  But  now,  de- 
bauched by  this  ^Frenchified  rascal,  they  call  me  rude, 
4  surly,  a  tyrant!  £lt  is  true  that  I  cannot  talk  in  finical 
phrases,  flatter  people  with  hypocritical  praise,  or  suppress 
the  real  feelings  of  my  mind.  Th^-scoundrel  knows  his 
pitiful  advantages,  and  insults/me  upon  trtari  without  ceas- 
ing.    He  is  my  rival  and  my  persecutor  ;^nd,  at  last,  as 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  67 

if  all  this  were  not  enough,  he  has  found  means  to  spread 
the  pestilence  in  my  own  family.  You,  whom  we  took  up 
out  of  charity,  the  chance-born  brat  of  a  stolen  marriage! 
you  must  turn  upon  your  benefactor,  and  wound  me  in 
the  point  that  of  all  others  I  could  least  bear.  If  I  were 
your  enemy,  should  not  I  have  reason?  Could  I  ever  inflict 
upon  you  such  injuries  as  you  have  made  me  suffer?  And 
who  are  you?  The  lives  of  fifty  such  cannot  atone  for  an 
hour  of  my  uneasiness.  If  you  were  to  linger  for  twenty 
years  upon  the  rack,  you  would  never  feel  what  I  have  felt. 
But  I  am  your  friend.  I  see  which  way  you  are  going; 
and  I  am  determined  to  save  you  from  this  thief,  this 
hypocritical  destroyer  of  us  all.  Every  moment  that  the 
mischief  is  left  to  itself,  it  does  but  make  bad  worse;  and 
I  am  determined  to  save  you  out  of  hand." 

The  angry  expostulations  of  Mr.  Tyrrel  suggested  new 
ideas  to  the  tender  mind  of  Miss  Melville.  He  had  never 
confessed  the  emotions  of  his  soul  so  explicitly  before;  but 
the  tempest  of  his  thoughts  suffered  him  to  be  no  longer 
master  of  himself.  She  saw  with  astonishment  that  he  was 
the  irreconcilable  foe  of  Mr.  Falkland,  whom  she  had 
fondly  imagined  it  was  the  same  thing  to  know  and  ad- 
mire; and  that  he  harboured  a  deep  and  rooted  resentment 
against  herself.  She  recoiled,  without  well  knowing  why, 
before  the  ferocious  passions  of  her  kinsman,  and  was  con- 
vinced that  she  had  nothing  to  hope  from  his  implacable 
temper.  But  her  alarm  was  the  prelude  of  firmness,  and 
not  of  cowardice. 

"No,  sir,"  replied  she,  "indeed  I  will  not  be  driven  any 
way  that  you  happen  to  like.  I  have  been  used  to  obey 
you,  and  in  all  that  is  reasonable  I  will  obey  you  still. 
But  you  urge  me  too  far.  What  do  you  tell  me  of  Mr. 
Falkland?  Have  I  ever  done  anything  to  deserve  your 
unkind  suspicions?  I  am  innocent,  and  will  continue  inno- 
cent. Mr.  Grimes  is  well  enough,  and  will  no  doubt  find 
women  that  like  him;  but  he  is  not  fit  for  me.  and  torture 
shall  not  force  me  to  be  his  wife." 


68  ADVENTURES  OF 

Mr.  Tyrrel  was  not  a  little  astonished  at  the  spirit 
which  Emily  displayed  upon  this  occasion.  He  had  cal- 
culated too  securely  upon  the  general  mildness  and  suavity 
of  her  disposition.  He  now  endeavoured  to  qualify  the 
harshness  of  her  former  sentiments. 

"God  damn  my  soul!  And  so  you  can  scold,  can  you? 
You  expect  everybody  to  turn  out  of  his  way,  and  fetch 
and  carry,  just  as  you  please?  I  could  find  in  my  heart — 
but  you  know  my  mind.  I  insist  upon  it  that  you  let 
Grimes  court  you,  and  that  you  lay  aside  your  sulks,  and 
give  him  a  fair  hearing.  Will  you  do  that?  If  then  you 
persist  in  your  wilfulness,  why  there,  I  suppose,  is  an  end 
of  the  matter.  Do  not  think  that  anybody  is  going  to 
marry  you,  whether  you  will  or  not.  You  are  no  such 
mighty  prize,  I  assure  you.  If  you  knew  your  own  interest, 
you  would  be  glad  to  take  the  young  fellow  while  he  is 
willing." 

Miss  Melville  rejoiced  in  the  prospect,  which  the  last 
words  of  her  kinsman  afforded  her,  of  a  termination  at  no 
great  distance  to  her  present  persecutions.     Mrs.  Jakeman, 
to  whom  she  communicated  them,  congratulated  Emily  on 
the  returning  moderation  and  good  sense  of  the  squire,  and 
herself  on  her  prudence  in  having  urged  the  young  lady  to 
this  happy  expostulation.     But  their  mutual  felicitations 
lasted  not  long.    Mr.  Tyrrel  informed  Mrs.  Jakeman  of  the 
necessity  in  which  he  found  himself  of  sending  her  to  a 
distance,  upon  a  business  which  would  not  fail  to  detain 
her  several  weeks;   and,  though  the  errand  by  no  means 
wore  an  artificial  or  ambiguous  face,  the  two  friends  drew 
a  melancholy  presage  from  this  ill-timed  separation.     Mrs. 
Jakeman,  in  the  meantime,  exhorted  her  ward  to  persevere, 
reminded  her  of  the  compunction  which  had  already  been 
manifested  by  her  kinsman,  and  encouraged  her  to  hope 
everything  from  her  courage  and  good  temper.    Emily,  on 
her  part,  though  grieved  at  the  absence  of  her  protector 
and  counsellor  at  so  interesting  a  crisis,  was  unable  to  sus- 
pect Mr.  Tyrrel  of  such  a  degree  either  of  malice  or  du- 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  69 

plicity  as  could  afford  ground  for  serious  alarm.  She  con- 
gratulated herself  upon  her  delivery  from  so  alarming  a 
persecution,  and  drew  a  prognostic  of  future  success  from 
this  happy  termination  of  the  first  serious  affair  of  her  life. 
She  exchanged  a  state  of  fortitude  and  alarm  for  her  for- 
mer pleasing  dreams  respecting  Mr.  Falkland.  These  she 
bore  without  impatience.  She  was  even  taught  by  the  un- 
certainty of  the  event  to  desire  to  prolong,  rather  than 
abridge,  a  situation  which  might  be  delusive,  but  which 
was  not  without  its  pleasures. 


CHAPTER  EIGHT 

NOTHING  could  be  further  from  Mr.  Tyrrel's  in- 
tention than  to  suffer  his  project  to  be  thus  ter- 
minated. No  sooner  was  he  freed  from  the  fear 
of  his  housekeeper's  interference,  than  he  changed  the 
whole  system  of  his  conduct.  He  ordered  Miss  Melville 
to  be  closely  confined  to  her  apartment,  and  deprived  of 
all  means  of  communicating  her  situation  to  any  one  out 
of  his  own  house.  He  placed  over  her  a  female  servant, 
in  whose  discretion  he  could  confide,  and  who,  having  for- 
merly been  honoured  with  the  amorous  notices  of  the 
squire,  considered  the  distinctions  that  were  paid  to  Emily 
at  Tyrrel  Place  as  a  usurpation  upon  her  more  reasonable 
claims.  The  squire  himself  did  everything  in  his  power 
to  blast  the  young  lady's  reputation,  and  represented  to  his 
attendants  these  precautions  as  necessary,  to  prevent  her 
from  eloping  to  his  neighbour,  and  plunging  herself  in  total 
ruin. 

As  soon  as  Miss  Melville  had  been  twenty-four  hours  in 
durance,  and  there  was  some  reason  to  suppose  that  her 
spirit  might  be  subdued  to  the  emergency  of  her  situation, 
Mr.  Tyrrel  thought  proper  to  go  to  her,  to  explain  the 
grounds  of  her  present  treatment,  and  acquaint  her  with 
the  only  means  by  which  she  could  hope  for  a  change. 
Emily  no  sooner  saw  him  than  she  turned  towards  him  with 
an  air  of  greater  firmness  than  perhaps  she  had  ever  as- 
sumed in  her  life,  and  accosted  him  thus: — 

"Well,  sir,  is  it  you?  I  wanted  to  see  you.  It  seems 
I  am  shut  up  here  by  your  orders.  What  does  this  mean? 
What  right  have  you  to  make  a  prisoner  of  me?  What  do 
I  owe  you?  Your  mother  left  me  a  hundred  pounds:  have 
you  ever  offered  to  make  any  addition  to  my  fortune?    But, 

70 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  71 

if  you  had,  I  do  not  want  it.  I  do  not  pretend  to  be  better 
than  the  children  of  other  poor  parents;  I  can  maintain 
myself  as  they  do.  I  prefer  liberty  to  wealth.  I  see  you 
are  surprised  at  the  resolution  I  exert.  But  ought  I  not 
to  turn  again  when  I  am  trampled  upon?  I  should  have 
left  you  before  now,  if  Mrs.  Jakeman  had  not  over-per- 
suaded me,  and  if  I  had  not  thought  better  of  you  than 
by  your  present  behaviour  I  find  you  deserve.  But  now, 
sir,  I  intend  to  leave  your  house  this  moment,  and  insist 
upon  it  that  you  do  not  endeavour  to  prevent  me." 

Thus  saying,  she  rose,  and  went  towards  the  door,  while 
Mr.  Tyrrel  stood  thunderstruck  at  her  magnanimity.  See- 
ing, however,  that  she  was  upon  the  point  of  being  out  of 
the  reach  of  his  power,  he  recovered  himself,  and  pulled 
her  back. 

"What  is  in  the  wind  now?  Do  you  think,  strumpet, 
that  you  shall  get  the  better  of  me  by  sheer  impudence? 
Sit  down!  rest  you  satisfied! — So  you  want  to  know  by 
what  right  you  are  here,  do  you?  By  the  right  of  pos- 
session. This  house  is  mine,  and  you  are  in  my  power. 
There  is  no  Mrs.  Jakeman  now  to  spirit  you  away;  no, 
nor  no  Falkland  to  bully  for  you.  I  have  countermined 
you,  damn  me!  and  blown  up  your  schemes.  Do  you  think 
I  will  be  contradicted  and  opposed  for  nothing?  When  did 
you  ever  know  anybody  resist  my  will  without  being  made 
to  repent?  And  shall  I  now  be  browbeaten  by  a  chitty- 
faced  girl? — I  have  not  given  you  a  fortune!  Damn  you! 
who  brought  you  up?  I  will  make  you  a  bill  for  clothing 
and  lodging.  Do  not  you  know  that  every  creditor  has  a 
right  to  stop  his  runaway  debtor?  You  may  think  as  you 
please;  but  here  you  are  till  you  marry  Grimes.  Heaven 
and  earth  shall  not  prevent  but  I  will  get  the  better  of 
your  obstinacy!" 

"Ungenerous,  unmerciful  man!  and  so  it  is  enough  for 
you  that  I  have  nobody  to  defend  me!  But  I  am  not  so 
helpless  as  you  imagine.  You  may  imprison  my  body,  but 
you  cannot  conquer  my  mind.     Marry  Mr.  Grimes!     And 


72 


ADVENTURES  OF 


> 


J\? 


<f$ 


7 


fl 


i«Y 


is  this  the  way  to  bring  me  to  your  purpose?  Every  hard- 
ship I  suffer  puts  still  farther  distant  the  end  for  which  I 
am  thus  unjustly  treated.  You  are  not  used  to  have  your 
will  contradicted!  When  did  I  ever  contradict  it?  And, 
in  a  concern  that  is  so  completely  my  own,  shall  my  will 
go  for  nothing?  Would  you  lay  down  this  rule  for  your- 
self, and  suffer  no  other  creature  to  take  the  benefit  of 
it?  I  want  nothing  of  you:  how  dare  you  refuse  me  the 
privilege  of  a  reasonable  being,  to  live  unmolested  in  pov- 
erty and  innocence?  What  sort  of  a  man  do  you  show 
yourself;  you  that  lay  claim  to  the  respect  and  applause 
of  every  one  that  knows  you?" 

The  spirited  reproaches  of  Emily  had  at  first  the  effect 
to  fill  Mr.  Tyrrel  with  astonishment,  and  make  him  feel 
abashed  and  overawed  in  the  presence  of  this  unprotected 
innocent.  But  his  confusion  was  the  result  of  surprise. 
When  the  first  emotion  wore  off,  he  cursed  himself  for  being 
moved  by  her  expostulations;  and  was  ten  times  more  exas- 
perated against  her,  for  daring  to  defy  his  resentment  at  a 
time  when  she  had  everything  to  fear.  His  despotic  and 
unforgiving  propensities  stimulated  him  to  a  degree  little 
short  of  madness.  At  the  same  time  his  habits,  which  were 
pensive  and  gloomy,  led  him  to  meditate  a  variety  of 
schemes  to  punish  her  obstinacy.  He  began  to  suspect 
that  there  was  little  hope  of  succeeding  by  open  force,  and 
therefore  determined  to  have  recourse  to  treachery. 

He  found  in  Grimes  an  instrument  sufficiently  adapted 
to  his  purpose.  This  fellow,  without  an  atom  of  inten- 
tional malice,  was  fitted,  by  the  mere  coarseness  of  his  per- 
ceptions, for  the  perpetration  of  the  greatest  injuries.  He 
regarded  both  injury  and  advantage  merely  as  they  related 
to  the  gratifications  of  appetite;  and  considered  it  an  essen- 
tial in  true  wisdom,  to  treat  with  insult  the  effeminacy  of 
those  who  suffer  themselves  to  be  tormented  with  ideal  mis- 
fortunes. He  believed  that  no  happier  destiny  could  befall 
a  young  woman  than  to  be  his  wife;  and  he  conceived  that 
that  termination  would  amply  compensate  for  any  calami- 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  73 

ties  she  might  suppose  herself  to  undergo  in  the  interval. 
He  was  therefore  easily  prevailed  upon,  by  certain  tempta- 
tions which  Mr.  Tyrrel  knew  how  to  employ,  to  take  part 
in  the  plot  into  which  Miss  Melville  was  meant  to  be 
betrayed. 

Matters  being  thus  prepared,  Mr.  Tyrrel  proceeded, 
through  the  means  of  the  jailer  (for  the  experience  he  al- 
ready had  of  personal  discussion  did  not  incline  him  to  re- 
peat his  visits),  to  play  upon  the  fears  of  his  prisoner. 
This  woman,  sometimes  under  the  pretence  of  friendship, 
and  sometimes  with  open  malice,  informed  Emily,  from 
time  to  time,  of  the  preparations  that  were  making  for  her 
marriage.  One  day,  "the  squire  had  rode  over  to  look  at 
a  neat  little  farm  which  was  destined  for  the  habitation 
of  the  new-married  couple;"  and  at  another,  "a  quantity 
of  live-stock  and  household  furniture  was  procured,  that 
everything  might  be  ready  for  their  reception."  She  then 
told  her  "of  a  license  that  was  bought,  a  parson  in  readi- 
ness, and  a  day  fixed  for  the  nuptials."  When  Emily  en- 
deavoured, though  with  increased  misgivings,  to  ridicule 
these  proceedings  as  absolutely  nugatory  without  her  con- 
sent, her  artful  gouvernante  related  several  stories  of 
forced  marriages,  and  assured  her  that  neither  protesta- 
tions, nor  silence,  nor  fainting  would  be  of  any  avail,  either 
to  suspend  the  ceremony  or  to  set  it  aside  when  performed. 

The  situation  of  Miss  Melville  was  in  an  eminent  degree 
pitiable.  She  had  no  intercourse  but  with  her  persecutors. 
She  had  not  a  human  being  with  whom  to  consult,  who 
might  afford  her  the  smallest  degree  of  consolation  and  en- 
couragement. She  had  fortitude;  but  it  was  neither  con- 
firmed nor  directed  by  the  dictates  of  experience.  It  could 
not  therefore  be  expected  to  be  so  inflexible,  as  with  better 
information  it  would,  no  doubt,  have  been  found.  She  had 
a  clear  and  noble  spirit;  but  she  had  some  of  her  sex's 
errors.  Her  mind  sunk  under  the  uniform  terrors  with 
which  she  was  assailed,  and  her  health  became  visibly  im- 
paired. 


74  ADVENTURES  OF 

Her  firmness  being  thus  far  undermined,  Grimes,  in  pur- 
suance of  his  instructions,  took  care  in  his  next  interview 
to  throw  out  an  insinuation  that,  for  his  own  part,  he  had 
never  cared  for  the  match,  and  since  she  was  so  averse  to 
it,  would  be  better  pleased  that  it  should  never  take  place. 
Between  one  and  the  other,  however,  he  was  got  into  a 
scrape,  and  now  he  supposed  he  must  marry,  will  he,  nill 
he.  The  two  squires  would  infallibly  ruin  him  upon  the 
least  appearance  of  backwardness  on  his  part,  as  they  were 
accustomed  to  do  every  inferior  that  resisted  their  will. 
Emily  was  rejoiced  to  find  her  admirer  in  so  favourable  a 
disposition;  and  earnestly  pressed  him  to  give  effect  to  this 
humane  declaration.  Her  representations  were  full  of  elo- 
quence and  energy.  Grimes  appeared  to  be  moved  at  the 
fervency  of  her  manner;  but  objected  the  resentment  of 
Mr.  Tyrrel  and  his  landlord.  At  length,  however,  he  sug- 
gested a  project,  in  consequence  of  which  he  might  assist 
her  in  her  escape,  without  its  ever  coming  to  their  knowl- 
edge, as,  indeed,  there  was  no  likelihood  that  their  suspi- 
cions would  fix  upon  him.  "To  be  sure,"  said  he,  "you 
have  refused  me  in  a  disdainful  sort  of  a  way,  as  a  man 
may  say.  Mayhap  you  thought  I  was  no  better  'an  a 
brute:  but  I  bear  you  no  malice,  and  I  will  show  you  that 
I  am  more  kind-hearted  'an  you  have  been  willing  to  think. 
It  is  a  strange  sort  of  a  vagary  you  have  taken,  to  stand 
in  your  own  light,  and  disoblige  all  your  friends.  But  if 
you  are  resolute, — do  you  see? — I  scorn  to  be  the  husband 
of  a  lass  that  is  not  every  bit  as  willing  as  I;  and  so  I 
will  even  help  to  put  you  in  a  condition  to  follow  your 
own  inclinations." 

Emily  listened  to  these  suggestions  at  first  with  eager- 
ness and  approbation.  But  her  fervency  somewhat  abated 
when  they  came  to  discuss  the  minute  parts  of  the  under- 
taking. It  was  necessary,  as  Grimes  informed  her,  that  her 
escape  should  be  effected  in  the  dead  of  the  night.  He 
would  conceal  himself  for  that  purpose  in  the  garden, 
and  be  provided  with  false  keys,  by  which  to  deliver  her 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  75 

from  her  prison.  These  circumstances  were  by  no  means 
adapted  to  calm  her  perturbed  imagination.  To  throw  her- 
self into  the  arms  of  the  man  whose  intercourse  she  was 
employing  every  method  to  avoid,  and  whom,  under  the 
idea  of  a  partner  for  life,  she  could  least  of  all  men  endure, 
was,  no  doubt,  an  extraordinary  proceeding.  The  attendant 
circumstances  of  darkness  and  solitude  aggravated  the  pic- 
ture. The  situation  of  Tyrrel  Place  was  uncommonly 
lonely;  it  was  three  miles  from  the  nearest  village,  and  not 
less  than  seven  from  that  in  which  Mrs.  Jakeman's  sister 
resided,  under  whose  protection  Miss  Melville  was  desirous 
of  placing  herself.  The  ingenuous  character  of  Emily  did 
not  allow  her  once  to  suspect  Grimes  of  intending  to  take 
an  ungenerous  and  brutal  advantage  of  these  circumstances ; 
but  her  mind  involuntarily  revolted  against  the  idea  of 
committing  herself,  alone,  to  the  disposal  of  a  man  whom 
she  had  lately  been  accustomed  to  consider  as  the  instru- 
ment of  her  treacherous  relation. 

After  having  for  some  time  revolved  these  considera- 
tions, she  thought  of  the  expedient  of  desiring  Grimes  to 
engage  Mrs.  Jakeman's  sister  to  wait  for  her  at  the  out- 
side of  the  garden.  But  this  Grimes  peremptorily  refused. 
He  even  flew  into  a  passion  at  the  proposal.  It  showed 
very  little  gratitude,  to  desire  him  to  disclose  to  other 
people  his  concern  in  this  dangerous  affair.  For  his  part, 
he  was  determined,  in  consideration  of  his  own  safety,  never 
to  appear  in  it  to  any  living  soul.  If  miss  did  not  believe 
him,  when  he  made  this  proposal  out  of  pure  good-nature, 
and  would  not  trust  him  a  single  inch,  she  might  even  see 
to  the  consequences  herself.  He  was  resolved  to  conde- 
scend no  further  to  the  whims  of  a  person  who,  in  her 
treatment  of  him,  had  shown  herself  as  proud  as  Lucifer 
himself. 

Emily  exerted  herself  to  appease  his  resentment;  but  all 
the  eloquence  of  her  new  confederate  could  not  prevail  upon 
her  instantly  to  give  up  her  objection.  She  desired  till  the 
next  day  to  consider  of  it.     The  day  after  was  fixed  by 


76  ADVENTURES  OF 

Mr.  Tyrrel  for  the  marriage  ceremony.  In  the  meantime 
she  was  pestered  with  intimations,  in  a  thousand  forms, 
of  the  fate  that  so  nearly  awaited  her.  The  preparations 
were  so  continued,  methodical,  and  regular,  as  to  produce 
in  her  the  most  painful  and  aching  anxiety.  If  her  heart 
attained  a  moment's  intermission  upon  the  subject,  her  fe- 
male attendant  was  sure,  by  some  sly  hint  or  sarcastical 
remark,  to  put  a  speedy  termination  to  her  tranquillity. 
She  felt  herself,  as  she  afterward  remarked,  alone,  unin- 
structed,  just  broken  loose,  as  it  were,  from  the  trammels 
of  infancy,  without  one  single  creature  to  concern  himself 
in  her  fate.  She,  who  till  then  never  knew  an  enemy,  had 
now,  for  three  weeks,  not  seen  the  glimpse  of  a  human 
countenance  that  she  had  not  good  reason  to  consider  as 
wholly  estranged  to  her  at  least,  if  not  unrelentingly  bent 
on  her  destruction.  She  now,  for  the  first  time,  experienced 
the  anguish  of  never  having  known  her  parents,  and  being 
cast  upon  the  charity  of  people  with  whom  she  had  too 
little  equality  to  hope  to  receive  from  them  the  offices  of 
friendship. 

The  succeeding  night  was  filled  with  the  most  anxious 
thoughts.  When  a  momentary  oblivion  stole  upon  her 
senses,  her  distempered  imagination  conjured  up  a  thousand 
images  of  violence  and  falsehood;  she  saw  herself  in  the 
hands  of  her  determined  enemies,  who  did  not  hesitate  by 
the  most  daring  treachery  to  complete  her  ruin.  Her  wak- 
ing thoughts  were  not  more  consoling.  The  struggle  was 
too  great  for  her  constitution.  As  morning  approached,  she 
resolved,  at  all  hazards,  to  put  herself  into  the  hands  of 
Grimes.  This  determination  was  no  sooner  made  than  she 
felt  her  heart  sensibly  lightened.  She  could  not  conceive 
any  evil  which  could  result  from  this  proceeding,  that  de- 
served to  be  put  in  the  balance  against  those  which,  under 
the  roof  of  her  kinsman,  appeared  unavoidable. 

When  she  communicated  her  determination  to  Grimes,  it 
was  not  possible  to  say  whether  he  received  pleasure  or 
pain  from  the  intimation.    He  smiled  indeed;  but  his  smile 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  77 

was  accompanied  by  a  certain  abrupt  ruggedness  of  counte- 
nance, so  that  it  might  equally  well  be  the  smile  of  sar- 
casm or  of  congratulation.  He,  however,  renewed  his  as- 
surances of  fidelity  to  his  engagements  and  punctuality  of 
execution.  Meanwhile  the  day  was  interspersed  with  nup- 
tial presents  and  preparations,  all  indicating  the  firmness  as 
well  as  security  of  the  directors  of  the  scene.  Emily  had 
hoped  that,  as  the  crisis  approached,  they  might  have  re- 
mitted something  of  their  usual  diligence.  She  was  re- 
solved, in  that  case,  if  a  fair  opportunity  had  offered,  to 
give  the  slip  both  to  her  jailers  and  to  her  new  and  reluc- 
tantly chosen  confederate.  But,  though  extremely  vigilant 
for  that  purpose,  she  found  the  execution  of  the  idea  im- 
practicable. 

At  length  the  night,  so  critical  to  her  happiness,  ap- 
proached. The  mind  of  Emily  could  not  fail,  on  this  occa- 
sion, to  be  extremely  agitated.  She  had  first  exerted  all 
her  perspicacity  to  elude  the  vigilance  of  her  attendant. 
This  insolent  and  unfeeling  tyrant,  instead  of  any  relent- 
ings,  had  only  sought  to  make  sport  of  her  anxiety.  Ac- 
cordingly, in  one  instance  she  hid  herself,  and,  suffering 
Emily  to  suppose  that  the  coast  was  clear,  met  her  at  the 
end  of  the  gallery,  near  the  top  of  the  staircase.  "How  do 
you  do,  my  dear?"  said  she,  with  an  insulting  tone.  "And 
so  the  little  dear  thought  itself  cunning  enough  to  outwit 
me,  did  it?  Oh,  it  was  a  sly  little  gipsy!  Go,  go  back, 
love;  troop!"  Emily  felt  deeply  the  trick  that  was  played 
upon  her.  She  sighed,  but  disdained  to  return  any  answer 
to  this  low  vulgarity.  Being  once  more  in  her  chamber, 
she  sat  down  in  a  chair,  and  remained  buried  in  revery  for 
more  than  two  hours.  After  this  she  went  to  her  drawers, 
and  turned  over,  in  a  hurrying,  confused  way,  her  linen 
and  clothes,  having  in  her  mind  the  provision  it  would  be 
necessary  to  make  for  her  elopement.  Her  jailer  officiously 
followed  her  from  place  to  place,  and  observed  what  she 
did  for  the  present  in  silence.  It  was  now  the  hour  of  rest. 
"Good  night,  child,"  said  this  saucy  girl,   in  the  act  of 


78  ADVENTURES  OF 

retiring.  "It  is  time  to  lock  up.  For  the  few  next  hours, 
the  time  is  your  own.  Make  the  best  use  of  it!  Do'ee 
think  ee  can  creep  out  at  the  keyhole,  lovey?  At  eight 
o'clock  you  see  me  again.  And  then,  and  then,"  added  she, 
clapping  her  hands,  "it  is  all  over.  The  sun  is  not  surer 
to  rise,  than  you  and  your  honest  man  to  be  made  one." 
There  was  something  in  the  tone  with  which  this  slut 
uttered  her  farewell,  that  suggested  the  question  to  Emily, 
"What  does  she  mean?  Is  it  possible  that  she  should  know 
what  has  been  planned  for  the  few  next  hours?" — This  was 
the  first  moment  that  suspicion  had  offered  itself,  and  its 
continuance  was  short.  With  an  aching  heart  she  folded 
up  the  few  necessaries  she  intended  to  take  with  her.  She 
instinctively  listened,  with  an  anxiety  that  would  almost 
have  enabled  her  to  hear  the  stirring  of  a  leaf.  From  time 
to  time  she  thought  her  ear  was  struck  with  the  sound  of 
feet;  but  the  treading,  if  treading  it  were,  was  so  soft,  that 
she  could  never  ascertain  whether  it  were  a  real  sound,  or 
the  mere  creature  of  the  fancy.  Then  all  was  still,  as  if 
the  universal  motion  had  been  at  rest.  By-and-by  she  con- 
ceived she  overheard  a  noise  as  of  buzzing  and  low-muttered 
speech.  Her  heart  palpitated;  for  a  second  time  she  began 
to  doubt  the  honesty  of  Grimes.  The  suggestion  was  now 
more  anxious  than  before;  but  it  was  too  late.  Presently 
she  heard  the  sound  of  a  key  in  her  chamber-door,  and 
the  rustic  made  his  appearance.  She  started,  and  cried, 
"Are  we  discovered?  did  not  I  hear  you  speak?"  Grimes 
advanced  on  tiptoe  with  his  finger  to  his  lip.  "No,  no," 
replied  he,  "all  is  safe!"  He  took  her  by  the  hand,  led 
her  in  silence  out  of  the  house,  and  then  across  the  garden. 
Emily  examined  with  her  eye  the  doors  and  passages  as 
they  proceeded,  and  looked  on  all  sides  with  fearful  sus- 
picion; but  everything  was  as  vacant  and  still  as  she  her- 
self could  have  wished.  Grimes  opened  a  back-door  of 
the  garden  already  unlocked,  that  led  into  an  unfrequented 
lane.  There  stood  two  horses  ready  equipped  for  the  jour- 
ney, and  fastened  by  their  bridles  to  a  post  not  six  yards 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  79 

distant  from  the  garden.  Grimes  pushed  the  door  after 
them.  "By  Gemini,"  said  he,  "my  heart  was  in  my  mouth. 
As  I  corned  along  to  you,  I  saw  Mum,  coachey,  pop  along 
from  the  back-door  to  the  stables.  He  was  within  a  hop, 
step,  and  jump  of  me.  But  he  had  a  lantern  in  his  hand, 
and  he  did  not  see  me,  being  as  I  was  darkling."  Saying 
this,  he  assisted  Miss  Melville  to  mount.  He  troubled  her 
little  during  the  route;  on  the  contrary,  he  was  remarkably 
silent  and  contemplative,  a  circumstance  by  no  means  dis- 
agreeable to  Emily,  to  whom  his  conversation  had  never 
been  acceptable. 

After  having  proceeded  about  two  miles,  they  turned 
into  a  wood,  through  which  the  road  led  to  the  place  of 
their  destination.  The  night  was  extremely  dark,  at  the 
same  time  that  the  air  was  soft  and  mild,  it  being  now 
the  middle  of  summer.  Under  pretence  of  exploring  the 
way,  Grimes  contrived,  when  they  had  already  penetrated 
into  the  midst  of  this  gloomy  solitude,  to  get  his  horse 
abreast  with  that  of  Miss  Melville,  and  then,  suddenly 
reaching  out  his  hand,  seized  hold  of  her  bridle.  "I  think 
we  may  as  well  stop  here  a  bit,"  said  he. 

"Stop!"  exclaimed  Emily  with  surprise;  "why  should 
we  stop?     Mr.  Grimes,  what  do  you  mean?" 

"Come,  come,"  said  he,  "never  trouble  yourself  to  won- 
der. Did  you  think  I  were  such  a  goose,  to  take  all  this 
trouble  merely  to  gratify  your  whim?  I'faith,  nobody  shall 
find  me  a  pack-horse,  to  go  of  other  folks'  errands,  with- 
out knowing  a  reason  why.  I  cannot  say  that  I  much 
minded  to  have  you  at  first;  but  your  ways  are  enough  to 
stir  the  blood  of  my  granddad.  Far-fetched  and  dear- 
bought  is  always  relishing.  Your  consent  was  so  hard  to 
gain,  that  squire  thought  it  was  surest  asking  in  the  dark. 
A'  said,  however,  a'  would  have  no  such  doings  in  his 
house,  and  so,  do  ye  see,  we  are  corned  here." 

"For  God's  sake,  Mr.  Grimes,  think  what  you  are  about! 
You  cannot  be  base  enough  to  ruin  a  poor  creature  who 
has  put  herself  under  your  protection!" 


8o  ADVENTURES  OF 


"Ruin!  No,  no,  I  will  make  an  honest  woman  of  you, 
when  all  is  done.  Nay,  none  of  your  airs;  no  tricks  upon 
travellers!  I  have  you  here  as  safe  as  a  horse  in  a  pound; 
there  is  not  a  house  nor  a  shed  within  a  mile  of  us;  and 
if  I  miss  the  opportunity,  call  me  spade.  Faith,  you  are 
a  delicate  morsel,  and  there  is  no  time  to  be  lost!" 

Miss  Melville  had  but  an  instant  in  which  to  collect  her 
thoughts.  She  felt  that  there  was  little  hope  of  softening 
the  obstinate  and  insensible  brute  in  whose  power  she  was 
placed.  But  the  presence  of  mind  and  intrepidity  annexed 
to  her  character  did  not  now  desert  her.  Grimes  had 
scarcely  finished  his  harangue,  when,  with  a  strong  and 
unexpected  jerk,  she  disengaged  the  bridle  from  his  grasp, 
and  at  the  same  time  put  her  horse  upon  full  speed.  She 
had  scarcely  advanced  twice  the  length  of  her  horse,  when 
Grimes  recovered  from  his  surprise,  and  pursued  her,  in- 
expressibly mortified  at  being  so  easily  overreached.  The 
sound  of  his  horse  behind  served  but  to  rouse  more  com- 
pletely the  mettle  of  that  of  Emily;  whether  by  accident 
or  sagacity,  the  animal  pursued  without  a  fault  the  narrow 
and  winding  way ;  and  the  chase  continued  the  whole  length 
of  the  wood. 

At  the  extremity  of  this  wood  there  was  a  gate.  The 
recollection  of  this  softened  a  little  the  cutting  disappoint- 
ment of  Grimes,  as  he  thought  himself  secure  of  putting 
|  an  end,  by  its  assistance,  to  the  career  of  Emily;  nor  was 
it  very  probable  that  anybody  would  appear  to  interrupt 
his  designs,  in  such  a  place,  and  in  the  dead  and  silence  of 
the  night.  By  the  most  extraordinary  accident,  however, 
they  found  a  man  on  horseback  in  wait  at  this  gate.  "Help, 
fielp!"  exclaimed  the  affrighted  Emily;  "thieves!  murder! 
jhelp!"  The  man  was  Mr.  Falkland.  Grimes  knew  his 
Voice;  and  therefore,  though  he  attempted  a  sort  of  sullen 
resistance,  it  was  feebly  made.  Two  other  men,  whom,  by 
reason  of  the  darkness,  he  had  not  at  first  seen,  and  who 
were  Mr.  Falkland's  servants,  hearing  the  bustle  of  the 
rencounter,  and  alarmed  for  the  safety  of  their  master,  rode 


f 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  81 

up;  and  then  Grimes,  disappointed  at  the  loss  of  his  grati- 
fication, and  admonished  by  conscious  guilt,  shrunk  from 
further  parley,  and  rode  off  in  silence. 

It  may  seem  strange  that  Mr.  Falkland  should  thus  a 
second  time  have  been  the  saviour  of  Miss  Melville,  and 
that  under  circumstances  the  most  unexpected  and  sin- 
gular. But  in  this  instance  it  is  easily  to  be  accounted  for. 
He  had  heard  of  a  man  who  lurked  about  this  wood  for 
robbery  or  some  other  bad  design,  and  that  it  was  conjec- 
tured this  man  was  Hawkins,  another  of  the  victims  of  Mr. 
Tyrrel's  rural  tyranny,  whom  I  shall  immediately  have  oc- 
casion to  introduce.  Mr.  Falkland's  compassion  had  al- 
ready been  strongly  excited  in  favour  of  Hawkins;  he  had 
in  vain  endeavoured  to  find  him,  and  do  him  good;  and 
he  easily  conceived,  that  if  the  conjecture  which  had  been 
made  in  this  instance  proved  true,  he  might  have  it  in  his 
power  not  only  to  do  what  he  had  always  intended,  but 
further,  to  save  from  a  perilous  offence  against  the  laws 
and  society  a  man  who  appeared  to  have  strongly  imbibed 
the  principles  of  justice  and  virtue.  He  took  with  him  two 
servants,  because,  going  with  the  express  design  of  encoun- 
tering robbers,  if  robbers  should  be  found,  he  believed  he 
should  be  inexcusable  if  he  did  not  go  provided  against 
possible  accidents.  But  he  had  directed  them,  at  the  same 
time  that  they  kept  within  call,  to  be  out  of  the  reach  of 
being  seen;  and  it  was  only  the  eagerness  of  their  zeal  that 
had  brought  them  up  thus  early  in  the  present  encounter. 

This  new  adventure  promised  something  extraordinary. 
Mr.  Falkland  did  not  immediately  recognise  Miss  Melville; 
and  the  person  of  Grimes  was  that  of  a  total  stranger, 
whom  he  did  not  recollect  to  have  ever  seen.  But  it  was 
easy  to  understand  the  merits  of  the  case,  and  the  propriety 
of  interfering.  The  resolute  manner  of  Mr.  Falkland,  com- 
bined with  the  dread  which  Grimes,  oppressed  with  a  sense 
of  wrong,  entertained  of  the  opposition  of  so  elevated  a 
personage,  speedily  put  the  ravisher  to  flight.  Emily  was 
left  alone  with  her  deliverer.     He  found  her  much  more 


82  CALEB  WILLIAMS  I 

collected  and  calm  than  could  reasonably  have  been  ex- 
pected from  a  person  who  had  been,  a  moment  before,  in 
the  most  alarming  situation.  She  told  him  of  the  place  to 
which  she  desired  to  be  conveyed,  and  he  immediately 
undertook  to  escort  her.  As  they  went  along,  she  recov- 
ered that  state  of  mind  which  inclined  her  to  make  a  per- 
son to  whom  she  had  such  repeated  obligations,  and  who 
was  so  eminently  the  object  of  her  admiration,  acquainted 
with  the  events  that  had  recently  befallen  her.  Mr.  Falk- 
land listened  with  eagerness  and  surprise.  Though  he  had 
already  known  various  instances  of  Mr.  Tyrrel's  mean  jeal- 
ousy and  unfeeling  tyranny,  this  surpassed  them  all;  and 
he  could  scarcely  credit  his  ears  while  he  heard  the  tale. 
His  brutal  neighbour  seemed  to  realize  all  that  has  been 
told  of  the  passions  of  fiends.  Miss  Melville  was  obliged 
to  repeat,  in  the  course  of  her  tale,  her  kinsman's  rude  ac- 
cusation against  her,  of  entertaining  a  passion  for  Mr. 
Falkland;  and  this  she  did  with  the  most  bewitching  sim- 
plicity and  charming  confusion.  Though  this  part  of  the 
tale  was  a  source  of  real  pain  to  her  deliverer,  yet  it  is  not 
to  be  supposed  but  that  the  flattering  partiality  of  this  un- 
happy girl  increased  the  interest  he  felt  in  her  welfare,  and 
the  indignation  he  conceived  against  her  infernal  kinsman. 
They  arrived  without  accident  at  the  house  of  the  good 
lady  under  whose  protection  Emily  desired  to  place  her- 
self. Here  Mr.  Falkland  willingly  left  her  as  in  a  place  of 
security.  Such  conspiracies  as  that  of  which  she  was  in- 
tended to  have  been  the  victim  depend  for  their  success 
upon  the  person  against  whom  they  are  formed  being  out 
of  the  reach  of  help;  and  the  moment  they  are  detected, 
they  are  annihilated.  Such  reasoning  will,  no  doubt,  be 
generally  found  sufficiently  solid;  and  it  appeared  to  Mr. 
Falkland  perfectly  applicable  to  the  present  case.  But  he 
was  mistaken. 


CHAPTER  NINE 

MR.  FALKLAND  had  experienced  the  nullity  of  all 
expostulation  with  Mr.  Tyrrel,  and  was  therefore 
content  in  the  present  case  with  confining  his 
attention  to  the  intended  victim.  The  indignation  with 
which  he  thought  of  his  neighbour's  character  was  now 
grown  to  such  a  height,  as  to  fill  him  with  reluctance  to 
the  idea  of  a  voluntary  interview.  There  was  indeed  an- 
other affair  which  had  been  contemporary  with  this,  that 
had  once  more  brought  these  mortal  enemies  into  a  state 
of  contest,  and  had  contributed  to  raise  into  a  temper  little 
short  of  madness,  the  already  inflamed  and  corrosive  bit- 
terness of  Mr.  Tyrrel. 

There  was  a  tenant  of  Mr.  Tyrrel,  one  Hawkins; — I 
cannot  mention  his  name  without  recollecting  the  painful 
tragedies  that  are  annexed  to  it!  This  Hawkins  had  origi- 
nally been  taken  up  by  Mr.  Tyrrel,  with  a  view  of  protect- 
ing him  from  the  arbitrary  proceedings  of  a  neighbouring 
squire,  though  he  had  now  in  his  turn  become  an  object  of 
persecution  to  Mr.  Tyrrel  himself.  The  first  ground  of 
their  connexion  was  this: — Hawkins,  besides  a  farm  which 
he  rented  under  the  above-mentioned  squire,  had  a  small 
freehold  estate  that  he  inherited  from  his  father.  This  of 
course  entitled  him  to  a  vote  in  the  county  elections;  and 
a  warmly  contested  election  having  occurred,  he  was  re- 
quired by  his  landlord  to  vote  for  the  candidate  in  whose 
favour  he  had  himself  engaged.  Hawkins  refused  to  obey 
the  mandate,  and  soon  after  received  notice  to  quit  the 
farm  he  at  that  time  rented. 

It  happened  that  Mr.  Tyrrel  had  interested  himself 
strongly  in  behalf  of  the  opposite  candidate;  and,  as  Mr. 
Tyrrel's  estate  bordered  upon  the  seat  of  Hawkins's  present 

83 


v 

84  \         ADVENTURES  OF 

residence,  the  ejected  countryman  could  think  of  no  better 
expedient  than  that  of  riding  over  to  this  gentleman's  man- 
sion, and  relating  the  case  to  him.  Mr.  Tyrrel  heard  him 
through  with  attention.  "Well,  friend,"  said  he,  "it  is  very 
true  that  I  wished  Mr.  Jakeman  to  carry  his  election;  but 
you  know  it  is  usual  in  these  cases  for  tenants  to  vote  just 
as  their  landlords  please.  I  do  not  think  proper  to  encour- 
age rebellion." — "All  that  is  very  right,  and  please  you," 
replied  Hawkins,  "and  I  would  have  voted  at  my  landlord's 
bidding  for  any  other  man  in  the  kingdom  but  Squire  Mar- 
low.  You  must  know,  one  day  his  huntsman  rode  over  my 
fence,  and  so  through  my  best  field  of  standing  corn.  It 
was  not  above  a  dozen  yards  about  if  he  had  kept  the 
cart-road.  The  fellow  had  served  me  the  same  sauce,  an 
it  please  your  honour,  three  or  four  times  before.  So  I 
only  asked  him  what  he  did  that  for,  and  whether  he  had 
not  more  conscience  than  to  spoil  people's  crops  o'  that 
fashion?  Presently  the  squire  came  up.  He  is  but  a  poor, 
weasen-face  chicken  of  a  gentleman,  saving  your  honour's 
reverence.  And  so  he  flew  into  a  woundy  passion,  and 
threatened  to  horsewhip  me.  I  will  do  as  much  in  reason 
to  pleasure  my  landlord  as  arr  a  tenant  he  has;  but  I  will 
not  give  my  vote  to  a  man  that  threatens  to  horsewhip  me. 
And  so,  your  honour,  I  and  my  wife  and  three  children 
are  to  be  turned  out  of  house  and  home,  and  what  I  am  to 
do  to  maintain  them  God  knows.  I  have  been  a  hard- 
working man,  and  have  always  lived  well,  and  I  do  think 
the  case  is  main  hard.  Squire  Underwood  turns  me  out  of 
my  farm;  and  if  your  honour  do  not  take  me  in,  I  know 
none  of  the  neighbouring  gentry  will,  for  fear,  as  they  say, 
of  encouraging  their  own  tenants  to  run  rusty  too." 

This  representation  was  not  without  its  effect  upon  Mr. 
Tyrrel.  "Well,  well,  man,"  replied  he,  "we  will  see  what 
can  be  done.  Order  and  subordination  are  very  good 
things;  but  people  should  know  how  much  to  require.  As 
you  tell  the  story,  I  cannot  see  that  you  are  greatly  to 
blame.     Marlow  is  a  coxcombical  prig,  that  is  the  truth 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  8s 

on't;  and  if  a  man  will  expose  himself,  why,  he  must  even 
take  what  follows.  I  do  hate  a  Frenchified  fop  with  all 
my  soul;  and  I  cannot  say  that  I  am  much  pleased  with 
my  neighbour  Underwood  for  taking  the  part  of  such  a 
rascal.  Hawkins,  I  think,  is  your  name?  You  may  call 
on  Barnes,  my  steward,  to-morrow,  and  he  shall  speak  to 
you."  ^ 

While  Mr.  Tyrrel  was  speaking,  he  recollected  that  he 
had  a  farm  vacant,  of  nearly  the  same  value  as  that  which 
Hawkins  at  present  rented  under  Mr.  Underwood.  He  im- 
mediately consulted  his  steward,  and  finding  the  thing  suit- 
able in  every  respect,  Hawkins  was  installed  out  of  hand 
in  the  catalogue  of  Mr.  Tyrrel 's  tenants.  Mr.  Underwood 
extremely  resented  this  proceeding,  which  indeed,  as  being 
contrary  to  the  understood  conventions  of  the  country  gen- 
tlemen, few  people  but  Mr.  Tyrrel  would  have  ventured 
upon.  There  was  an  end,  said  Mr.  Underwood,  to  all  regu- 
lation, if  tenants  were  to  be  encouraged  in  such  disobedi- 
ence. It  was  not  a  question  of  this  or  that  candidate,  see- 
ing that  any  gentleman,  who  was  a  true  friend  to  his  coun- 
try, would  rather  lose  his  election  than  do  a  thing  which, 
if  once  established  into  a  practice,  would  deprive  them  for 
ever  of  the  power  of  managing  any  election.  The  labouring 
people  were  sturdy  and  resolute  enough  of  their  own  ac- 
cord; it  became  every  day  more  difficult  to  keep  them 
under  any  subordination;  and,  if  the  gentlemen  were  so  ill 
advised  as  to  neglect  the  public  good,  and  encourage  them, 
in  their  insolence,  there  was  no  foreseeing  where  it  would 
end. 

Mr.  Tyrrel  was  not  of  a  stamp  to  be  influenced  by  these 
remonstrances.  Their  general  spirit  was  sufficiently  con- 
formable to  the  sentiments  he  himself  entertained;  but  he 
was  of  too  vehement  a  temper  to  maintain  the  character 
of  a  consistent  politician;  and,  however  wrong  his  conduct 
might  be,  he  would  by  no  means  admit  of  its  being  set 
right  by  the  suggestions  of  others.  The  more  his  patronage 
of  Hawkins  was  criticised,  the  more  inflexibly  he  adhered 


86  ADVENTURES  OF 

to  it;  and  he  was  at  no  loss  in  clubs  and  other  assemblies 
to  overbear  and  silence,  if  not  to  confute,  his  censurers. 
Besides  which,  Hawkins  had  certain  accomplishments  which 
qualified  him  to  be  a  favourite  with  Mr.  Tyrrel.  The  blunt- 
ness  of  his  manner  and  the  ruggedness  of  his  temper  gave 
him  some  resemblance  to  his  landlord;  and,  as  these  quali- 
ties were  likely  to  be  more  frequently  exercised  on  such 
persons  as  had  incurred  Mr.  Tyrrel's  displeasure  than  upon 
Mr.  Tyrrel  himself,  they  were  not  observed  without  some 
degree  of  complacency.  In  a  word,  he  every  day  received 
new  marks  of  distinction  from  his  patron,  and  after  some 
time  was  appointed  coadjutor  to  Mr.  Barnes  under  the  de- 
nomination of  bailiff.  It  was  about  the  same  period  that 
he  obtained  a  lease  of  the  farm  of  which  he  was  tenant. 

Mr.  Tyrrel  determined,  as  occasion  offered,  to  promote 
every  part  of  the  family  of  this  favoured  dependant.  Haw- 
kins had  a  son,  a  lad  of  seventeen,  of  an  agreeable  person, 
a  ruddy  complexion,  and  of  quick  and  lively  parts.  This 
lad  was  in  an  uncommon  degree  the  favourite  of  his  father, 
who  seemed  to  have  nothing  so  much  at  heart  as  the  future 
welfare  of  his  son.  Mr.  Tyrrel  had  noticed  him  two  or 
three  times  with  approbation;  and  the  boy,  being  fond  of 
the  sports  of  the  field,  had  occasionally  followed  the  hounds, 
and  displayed  various  instances  both  of  agility  and  sagacity 
in  presence  of  the  squire.  One  day  in  particular  he  ex- 
hibited himself  with  uncommon  advantage;  and  Mr.  Tyrrel 
without  further  delay  proposed  to  his  father  to  take  him 
into  his  family,  and  make  him  whipper-in  to  his  hounds, 
till  he  could  provide  him  with  some  more  lucrative  appoint- 
ment in  his  service. 

This  proposal  was  received  by  Hawkins  with  various 
marks  of  mortification.  He  excused  himself  with  hesita- 
tion for  not  accepting  the  offered  favour;  said  the  lad  was 
in  many  ways  useful  to  him;  and  hoped  his  honour  would 
not  insist  upon  depriving  him  of  his  assistance.  This  apol- 
ogy might  perhaps  have  been  sufficient  with  any  other  man 
than  Mr.  Tyrrel;   but  it  was  frequently  observed  of  this 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  87 

gentleman  that  when  he  had  once  formed  a  determination, 
however  slight,  in  favour  of  any  measure,  he  was  never 
afterward  known  to  give  it  up,  and  that  the  only  effect  of 
opposition  was  to  make  him  eager  and  inflexible  in  pursuit 
of  that  to  which  he  had  before  been  nearly  indifferent.  At 
first  he  seemed  to  receive  the  apology  of  Hawkins  with 
good  humour,  and  to  see  nothing  in  it  but  what  was  reason- 
able; but  afterward,  every  time  he  saw  the  boy 
his  desire  of  retaining  him  in  his  service  was  increased, 
and  he  more  than  once  repeated  to  his  father  the  good  dis- 
position in  which  he  felt  himself  towards  him.  At  length 
he  observed  that  the  lad  was  no  more  to  be  seen  mingling 
in  his  favourite  sports,  and  he  began  to  suspect  that  this 
originated  in  a  determination  to  thwart  him  in  his  projects. 

Roused  by  this  suspicion,  which,  to  a  man  of  Mr.  Tyr- 
rel's  character,  was  not  of  a  nature  to  brook  delay,  he  sent 
for  Hawkins  to  confer  with  him.  "Hawkins,"  said  he,  in 
a  tone  of  displeasure,  "I  am  not  satisfied  with  you.  I  have 
spoken  to  you  two  or  three  times  about  this  lad  of  yours, 
whom  I  am  desirous  of  taking  into  favour.  What  is  the 
reason,  sir,  that  you  seem  unthankful  and  averse  to  my 
kindness?  You  ought  to  know  that  I  am  not  to  be  trifled 
with.  I  shall  not  be  contented  when  I  offer  my  favours 
to  have  them  rejected  by  such  fellows  as  you.  I  made  you 
what  you  are;  and,  if  I  please,  can  make  you  more  help- 
less and  miserable  than  you  were  when  I  found  you.  Have 
a  care!" 

"An  it  please  your  honour,"  said  Hawkins,  "you  have 
been  a  very  good  master  to  me,  and  I  will  tell  you  the 
whole  truth.  I  hope  you  will  na  be  angry.  This  lad  is 
my  favourite,  my  comfort,  and  the  stay  of  my  age." 

"Well,  and  what  then?  Is  that  a  reason  you  should 
hinder  his  preferment?" 

"Nay,  pray,  your  honour,  hear  me.  I  may  be  very  weak 
for  aught  I  know  in  this  case,  but  I  cannot  help  it.  My 
father  was  a  clergyman.  We  have  all  of  us  lived  in  a 
creditable  way;  and  I  cannot  bear  to  think  that  this  poor 


88  ADVENTURES  OF 

lad  of  mine  should  go  to  service.  For  my  part  I  do  not 
see  any  good  that  comes  by  servants.  I  do  not  know,  your 
honour,  but  I  think  I  should  not  like  my  Leonard  to  be 
such  as  they.  God  forgive  me,  if  I  wrong  them!  But  this 
is  a  very  dear  case,  and  I  cannot  bear  to  risk  my  poor  boy's 
welfare,  when  I  can  so  easily,  if  you  please,  keep  him  out 
of  harm's  way.  At  present  he  is  sober  and  industrious, 
and,  without  being  pert  or  surly,  knows  what  is  due  to  him. 
I  know,  your  honour,  that  it  is  main  foolish  of  me  to  talk 
to  you  thus;  but  your  honour  has  been  a  good  master  to 
me,  and  I  cannot  bear  to  tell  you  a  lie." 

Mr.  Tyrrel  had  heard  the  whole  of  this  harangue  in 
silence,  because  he  was  too  much  astonished  to  open  his 
mouth.  If  a  thunderbolt  had  fallen  at  his  feet  he  could 
not  have  testified  greater  surprise.  He  had  thought  that 
Hawkins  was  so  foolishly  fond  of  his  son  that  he  could 
not  bear  to  trust  him  out  of  his  presence;  but  had  never 
in  the  slightest  degree  suspected  what  he  now  found  to 
be  the  truth. 

"Oh,  ho,  you  are  a  gentleman,  are  you?  A  pretty  gen- 
tleman, truly!  your  father  was  a  clergyman!  Your  family 
is  too  good  to  enter  into  my  service!  Why,  you  impudent 
rascal !  was  it  for  this  that  I  took  you  up,  when  Mr.  Under- 
wood dismissed  you  for  your  insolence  to  him?  Have  I 
been  nursing  a  viper  in  my  bosom?  Pretty  master's  man- 
ners will  be  contaminated,  truly!  He  will  not  know  what 
is  due  to  him,  but  will  be  accustomed  to  obey  orders! 
You  insufferable  villain!  Get  out  of  my  sight!  Depend 
upon  it,  I  will  have  no  gentlemen  on  my  estate!  I  will  off 
with  them,  root  and  branch,  bag  and  baggage!  So,  do  you 
hear,  sir?  come  to  me  to-morrow  morning,  bring  your  son, 
and  ask  my  pardon;  or,  take  my  word  for  it,  I  will  make 
\you  so  miserable  you  shall  wish  you  had  never  been  born." 

This  treatment  was  too  much  for  Hawkins's  patience. 
"There  is  no  need,  your  honour,  that  I  should  come  to  you 
again  about  this  affair.  I  have  taken  up  my  determination, 
and  no  time  can  make  any  change  in  it.    I  am  main  sorry 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  89 

to  displease  your  worship,  and  I  know  that  you  can  do  me 
a  great  deal  of  mischief.  But  I  hope  you  will  not  be  so 
hardhearted  as  to  ruin  a  father  only  for  being  fond  of  his 
child,  even  if  so  be  that  his  fondness  should  make  him  do 
a  foolish  thing.  But  I  cannot  help  it,  your  honour:  you 
must  do  as  you  please.  The  poorest  neger,  as  a  man  may 
say,  has  some  point  that  he  will  not  part  with.  I  will  lose 
all  that  I  have,  and  go  to  day-labour,  and  my  son  too,  if 
needs  must;  but  I  will  not  make  a  gentleman's  servant 
of  him." 

"Very  well,  friend;  very  well!"  replied  Mr.  Tyrrel,  foam- 
ing with  rage.  "Depend  upon  it,  I  will  remember  you! 
Your  pride  shall  have  a  downfall!  God  damn  it!  is  it  come 
to  this?  Shall  a  rascal  that  farms  his  forty  acres  pretend 
to  beard  the  lord  of  the  manor?  I  will  tread  you  into 
paste!  Let  me  advise  you,  scoundrel,  to  shut  up  your 
house  and  fly  as  if  the  devil  was  behind  you!  You  may 
think  yourself  happy,  if  I  be  not  too  quick  for  you  yet,  if 
you  escape  in  a  whole  skin!  I  would  not  suffer  such  a 
villain  to  remain  upon  my  land  a  day  longer,  if  I  could 
gain  the  Indies  by  it!" 

"Not  so  fast,  your  honour,"  answered  Hawkins,  sturdily. 
"I  hope  you  will  think  better  of  it,  and  see  that  I  have  not 
been  to  blame.  But  if  you  should  not,  there  is  some  harm 
that  you  can  do  me,  and  some  harm  that  you  cannot. 
Though  I  am  a  plain  working  man,  your  honour,  do  you 
see?  yet  I  am  a  man  still.  No;  I  have  got  a  lease  of  my 
farm,  and  I  shall  not  quit  it  o'  thaten.  I  hope  there  is 
some  law  for  poor  folk,  as  well  as  for  rich." 

Mr.  Tyrrel,  unused  to  contradiction,  was  provoked  be- 
yond bearing  at  the  courage  and  irjHpppnHpnt  spirit  nf  his 
retainer.  There  was  not  a  tenant  upon  his  estate,  or  at 
least  not  one  of  Hawkins's  mediocrity  of  fortune,  whom  the 
general  policy~~oFTandowners,  and  still  more  the  arbitrary 
and  uncontrollable  temper  of  Mr.  Tyrrel,  did  not  effectually 
restrain  from  acts  of  open  defiance. 

"Excellent,  upon  my  soul!     Damn  my  blood!   but  you 


go  ADVENTURES  OF 

are  a  rare  fellow.  You  have  a  lease,  have  you?  You  will 
not  quit,  not  you!  a  pretty  pass  things  are  come  to,  if  a 
lease  can  protect  such  fellows  as  you  against  the  lord  of 
a  manor!  But  you  are  for  a  trial  of  skill?  Oh,  very  well, 
friend,  very  well!  With  all  my  soul!  Since  it  is  come  to 
that,  we  will  show  you  some  pretty  sport  before  we  have 
done!  But  get  out  of  my  sight,  you  rascal!  I  have  not 
another  word  to  say  to  you!  Never  darken  my  doors 
igain." 

Hawkins  (to  borrow  the  language  of  the  world)  was 
guilty  in  this  affair  of  a  double  imprudence.  He  talked  to 
his  landlord  in  a  more  peremptory  manner  than  the  consti- 
tution and  practices  of  this  country  allow  a  dependant  to 
assume.  But,  above  all,  having  been  thus  hurried  away  by 
his  resentment,  he  ought  to  have  foreseen  the  consequences. 
It  was  mere  madness  in  him  to  think  of  contesting  with  a 
'  man  of  Mr.  Tyrrel's  eminence  and  fortune.  It  was  a  fawn 
contending  with  a  lion.  Nothing  could  have  been  more 
easy  to  predict,  than  that  it  was  of  no  avail  for  him  to 
have  right  on  his  side,  when  his  adversary  had  influence 
and  wealth,  and  therefore  could  so  victoriously  justify  any 
extravagances  that  he  might  think  proper  to  commit.  This 
maxim  was  completely  illustrated  in  the  sequel.  Wealth 
and  despotism  easily  know  how  to  engage  those  laws  as 
the  coadjutors  of  their  oppression  which  were  perhaps  at 
first  intended  [witless  and  miserable  precaution!]  for  the 
(""'  safeguards  of  the  poor. 

From  this  moment  Mr.  Tyrrel  was  bent  upon  Hawkins's 
destruction;  and  he  left  no  means  unemployed  that  could 
either  harass  or  injure  the  object  of  his  persecution.     He 
I  deprived  him  of  his  appointment  of  bailiff,  and  directed 
1  Barnes  and  his  other  dependants  to  do  him  ill  offices  upon 
\  all  occasions.    Mr.  Tyrrel,  by  the  tenure  of  his  manor,  was 
impropriator  of  the  great  tithes,  and  this  circumstance  af- 
forded  him    frequent    opportunities    of   petty   altercation. 
The  land  of  one  part  of  Hawkins's  farm,  though  covered 
with  corn,  was  lower  than  the  rest;  and  consequently  ex- 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  91 

posed  to  occasional  inundations  from  a  river  by  which  it 
was  bounded.  Mr.  Tyrrel  had  a  dam  belonging  to  this 
river  privately  cut,  about  a  fortnight  before  the  season  of 
harvest,  and  laid  the  whole  under  water.  He  ordered  his 
servants  to  pull  away  the  fences  of  the  higher  ground  dur- 
ing the  night,  and  to  turn  in  his  cattle,  to  the  utter  destruc- 
tion of  the  crop.  These  expedients,  however,  applied  to  only 
one  part  of  the  property  of  this  unfortunate  man.  But  Mr. 
Tyrrel  did  not  stop  here.  A  sudden  mortality  took  place 
among  Hawkins's  live  stock,  attended  with  very  suspicious 
circumstances.  Hawkins's  vigilance  was  strongly  excited 
by  this  event,  and  he  at  length  succeeded  in  tracing  the 
matter  so  accurately,  that  he  conceived  he  could  bring  it 
home  to  Mr.  Tyrrel  himself. 

Hawkins  had  hitherto  carefully  avoided,  notwithstanding 
the  injuries  he  had  suffered,  the  attempting  to  right  himself 
by  legal  process;  being  of  opinion  that  law  was  better 
adapted  for  a.  weapon  of  tyranny  in  the_Jiands_aL  the  ikh, 
than  for  a  shield  to  protect  the  humbler  part  of  the  com- 
munity against  their  usurpations.  In  this  last  instance, 
However,  ne  conceived  that  the  offence  was  so  atrocious  as 
to  make  it  impossible  that  any  rank  could  protect  the  cul- 
prit against  the  severity  of  justice.  In  the  sequel,  he  saw 
reason  to  applaud  himself  for  his  former  inactivity  in  this 
respect,  and  to  repent  that  any  motive  had  been  strong 
enough  to  persuade  him  into  a  contrary  system. 

This  was  the  very  point  to  which  Mr.  Tyrrel  wanted  to 
bring  him,  and  he  could  scarcely  credit  his  good  fortune, 
when  he  was  told  that  Hawkins  had  entered  an  action.  His 
congratulation  upon  this  occasion  was  immoderate,  as  he 
now  conceived  that  the  ruin  of  his  late  favourite  was  irre- 
trievable. He  consulted  his  attorney,  and  urged  him  by 
every  motive  he  could  devise  to  employ  the  whole  series 
of  his  subterfuges  in  the  present  affair.  The  direct  repel- 
ling of  the  charge  exhibited  against  him  was  the  least  part 
of  his  care;  the  business  was,  by  affidavits,  motions,  pleas, 
demurrers,  flaws,  and  appeals,  to  protract  the  question  from 


1 


92  ADVENTURES  OF 

term  to  term,  and  from  court  to  court.  It  would,  as  Mr. 
Tyrrel  argued,  be  the  disgrace  of  a  civilized  country,  if  a 
gentleman,  when  insolently  attacked  in  law  by  the  scum  of 
the  earth,  could  not  convert  the  cause  into  a  question  of 
the  longest  purse,  and  stick  in  the  skirts  of  his  adversary 
till  he  had  reduced  him  to  beggary. 

Mr.  Tyrrel,  however,  was  by  no  means  so  far  engrossed 
by  his  lawsuit  as  to  neglect  other  methods  of  proceeding 
offensively  against  his  tenant.  Among  the  various  expedi- 
ents that  suggested  themselves,  there  was  one,  which,  though 
it  tended  rather  to  torment  than  irreparably  injure  the  suf- 
ferer, was  not  rejected.  This  was  derived  from  the  par- 
ticular situation  of  Hawkins's  house,  barns,  stacks,  and  out- 
houses. They  were  placed  at  the  extremity  of  a  slip  of 
land  connecting  them  with  the  rest  of  the  farm,  and  were 
surrounded  on  three  sides  by  fields,  in  the  occupation  of 
one  of  Mr.  Tyrrel's  tenants  most  devoted  to  the  pleasures 
of  his  landlord.  The  road  to  the  market-town  ran  at  the 
bottom  of  the  largest  of  these  fields,  and  was  directly  in 
view  of  the  front  of  the  house.  No  inconvenience  had  yet 
arisen  from  that  circumstance,  as  there  had  always  been  a 
broad  path,  that  intersected  this  field,  and  led  directly  from 
Hawkins's  house  to  the  road.  This  path,  or  private  road, 
was  now,  by  concert  of  Mr.  Tyrrel  and  his  obliging  tenant, 
shut  up,  so  as  to  make  Hawkins  a  sort  of  prisoner  in  his 
own  domains,  and  oblige  him  to  go  near  a  mile  about  for 
the  purposes  of  his  traffic. 

Young  Hawkins,  the  lad  who  had  been  the  original  sub- 
ject of  dispute  between  his  father  and  the  squire,  had  much 
of  his  father's  spirit,  and  felt  an  uncontrollable  indignation 
against  the  successive  acts  of  despotism  of  which  he  was  a 
witness.  His  resentment  was  the  greater,  because  the  suf- 
ferings to  which  his  parent  was  exposed,  all  of  them,  flowed 
from  affection  to  him;  at  the  same  time  that  he  could  not 
propose  removing  the  ground  of  dispute,  as  by  so  doing  he 
would  seem  to  fly  in  the  face  of  his  father's  paternal  kind- 
ness.   Upon  the  present  occasion,  without  asking  any  coun- 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  93 

sel  but  of  his  own  impatient  resentment,  he  went  in  the 
middle  of  the  night  and  removed  all  the  obstructions  that 
had  been  placed  in  the  way  of  the  old  path,  broke  the  pad- 
locks that  had  been  fixed,  and  threw  open  the  gates. 

In  these  operations  he  did  not  proceed  unobserved,  and 
the  next  day  a  warrant  was  issued  for  apprehending  him. 
He  was  accordingly  carried  before  a  meeting  of  justices, 
and  by  them  committed  to  the  county  jail,  to  take  his  trial 
for  the  felony  at  the  next  assizes.  Mr.  Tyrrel  was  deter- 
mined to  prosecute  the  offence  with  the  greatest  severity; 
and  his  attorney,  having  made  the  proper  inquiries  for  that 
purpose,  undertook  to  bring  it  under  that  clause  of  the  act 
9  Geo.  I.  commonly  called  the  Black  Act,  which  declares 
that  "any  person,  armed  with  a  sword,  or  other  offensive 
weapon,  and  having  his  face  blackened,  or  being  otherwise 
disguised,  appearing  in  any  warren  or  place  where  hares  or 
conies  have  been  or  shall  be  usually  kept,  and  being  thereof 
duly  convicted,  shall  be  adjudged  guilty  of  felony,  and  shall 
suffer  death,  as  in  cases  of  felony,  without  benefit  of  clergy." 
Young  Hawkins,  it  seemed,  had  buttoned  the  cape  of  his 
great  coat  over  his  face,  as  soon  as  he  perceived  himself  to 
be  observed,  and  he  was  furnished  with  a  wrenching-iron 
for  the  purpose  of  breaking  the  padlocks.  The  attorney 
further  undertook  to  prove,  by  sufficient  witnesses,  that  the 
field  in  question  was  a  warren  in  which  hares  were  regu- 
larly fed.  Mr.  Tyrrel  seized  upon  these  pretences  with  in- 
expressible satisfaction.  He  prevailed  upon  the  justices,  by 
the  picture  he  drew  of  the  obstinacy  and  insolence  of  the 
Hawkinses,  fully  to  commit  the  lad  upon  this  miserable 
charge :  and  it  was  by  no  means  so  certain  as  paternal  affec- 
tion would  have  desired,  that  the  same  overpowering  influ- 
ence would  not  cause  in  the  sequel  the  penal  clause  to  be 
executed  in  all  its  strictness. 

This  was  the  finishing  stroke  to  Hawkins's  miseries;  as 
he  was  not  deficient  in  courage,  he  had  stood  up  against 
his  other  persecutions  without  flinching.  He  was  not  un- 
aware of  the  advantages  which  our  laws  and  customs  give 


94  ADVENTURES  OF 

to  the  rich  over  the  poor  in  contentions  of  this  kind.  But 
being  once  involved,  there  was  a  stubbornness  in  his  nature 
that  would  not  allow  him  to  retract,  and  he  suffered  himself 
to  hope,  rather  than  expect,  a  favourable  issue.  But  in 
this  last  event  he  was  wounded  in  the  point  that  was  nearest 
his  heart.  He  had  feared  to  have  his  son  contaminated 
and  debased  by  a  servile  station,  and  he  now  saw  him  trans- 
ferred to  the  seminary  of  a  jail.  He  was  even  uncertain  as 
to  the  issue  of  his  imprisonment,  and  trembled  to  think 
what  the  tyranny  of  wealth  might  effect  to  blast  his  hopes 
for  ever. 

From  this  moment  his  heart  died  within  him.  He  had 
trusted  to  persevering  industry  and  skill,  to  save  the  wreck 
of  his  little  property  from  the  vulgar  spite  of  his  landlord. 
But  he  had  now  no  longer  any  spirit  to  exert  those  efforts 
which  his  situation  more  than  ever  required.  Mr.  Tyrrel 
proceeded  without  remission  in  his  machinations;  Hawkins's 
affairs  every  day  grew  more  desperate,  and  the  squire, 
watching  the  occasion,  took  the  earliest  opportunity  of  seiz- 
ing upon  his  remaining  property  in  the  mode  of  a  distress 
for  rent. 

It  was  precisely  in  this  stage  of  the  affair  that  Mr.  Falk- 
land and  Mr.  Tyrrel  accidentally  met,  in  a  private  road 
near  the  habitation  of  the  latter.  They  were  on  horseback, 
and  Mr.  Falkland  was  going  to  the  house  of  the  unfortunate 
tenant,  who  seemed  upon  the  point  of  perishing  under  his 
landlord's  malice.  He  had  been  just  made  acquainted  with 
the  tale  of  this  persecution.  It  had  indeed  been  an  addi- 
tional aggravation  of  Hawkins's  calamity,  that  Mr.  Falk- 
land, whose  interference  might  otherwise  have  saved  him, 
had  been  absent  from  the  neighbourhood  for  a  considerable 
time.  He  had  been  three  months  in  London,  and  from 
thence  had  gone  to  visit  his  estates  in  another  part  of  the 
island.  The  proud  and  self-confident  spirit  of  this  poor 
fellow  always  disposed  him  to  depend,  as  long  as  possible, 
upon  his  own  exertions.  He  had  avoided  applying  to  Mr. 
Falkland,  or  indeed  indulging  himself  in  any  manner  in 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  95 

communicating  and  bewailing  his  hard  hap,  in  the  begin- 
ning of  the  contention;  and  when  the  extremity  grew  more 
urgent,  and  he  would  have  been  willing  to  recede  in  some 
degree  from  the  stubbornness  of  his  measures,  he  found  it 
no  longer  in  his  power.  After  an  absence  of  considerable 
duration,  Mr.  Falkland  at  length  returned  somewhat  un- 
expectedly; and  having  learned,  among  the  first  articles  of 
country  intelligence,  the  distresses  of  this  unfortunate  yeo- 
man, he  resolved  to  ride  over  to  his  house  the  next  morning, 
and  surprise  him  with  all  the  relief  it  was  in  his  power  to 
bestow. 

At  sight  of  Mr.  Tyrrel  in  this  unexpected  rencounter, 
his  face  reddened  with  indignation.  His  first  feeling,  as 
he  afterward  said,  was  to  avoid  him;  but  finding  that  he 
must  pass  him,  he  conceived  that  it  would  be  want  of  spirit 
not  to  acquaint  him  with  his  feelings  on  the  present  occa- 
sion. 

"Mr.  Tyrrel,"  said  he,  somewhat  abruptly,  "I  am  sorry 
for  a  piece  of  news  which  I  have  just  heard." 

"And  pray,  sir,  what  is  your  sorrow  to  me?" 

"A  great  deal,  sir:  it  is  caused  by  the  distresses  of  a  poor 
tenant  of  yours,  Hawkins.  If  your  steward  have  proceeded 
without  your  authority,  I  think  it  right  to  inform  you  what 
he  has  done;  and  if  he  have  had  your  authority,  I  would 
gladly  persuade  you  to  think  better  of  it." 

"Mr.  Falkland,  it  would  be  quite  as  well  if  you  would 
mind  your  own  business,  and  leave  me  to  mind  mine.  I 
want  no  monitor,  and  I  will  have  none." 

"You  mistake,  Mr.  Tyrrel;  I  am  minding  my  own  busi- 
ness. If  I  see  you  fall  into  a  pit,  it  is  my  business  to  draw 
you  out  and  save  your  life.  If  I  see  you  pursuing  a  wrong 
mode  of  conduct,  it  is  my  business  to  set  you  right  and  save 
your  honour." 

"Zounds,  sir,  do  not  think  to  put  your  conundrums  u^eto^ 
me!     Is  not  the  man  my  tenant?     Is  not  my  estate  my 
own?  What  signifies  calling  it  mine,  if  I  am  not  to  have 
the  direction  of  it?     Sir,  I  pay  for  what  I  have:  I  owe  no 


96  ADVENTURES  OF 


man  a  penny;   and  I  will  not  put  my  estate  to  nurse  to 
you,  nor  the  best  he  that  wears  a  head." 

"It  is  very  true,"  said  Mr.  Falkland,  avoiding  any  direct 
notice  of  the  last  words  of  Mr.  Tyrrel,  "that  there  is  a  dis- 
.  tinction  of  ranks.  I  believe  that  distinction  is  a  good  thing? 
and  nffpiffniry  to  'thep^ace  ot  mankind.  But,  however 
necessary  it  may  be,  we  must  acknowledge  that  ^j^uJsjsome 
hardship  upon  the  lower  orders  of  society.  It  makes  one's 
Heart  ache  to  think,  that  Olle  man  is  bornto  the  inheritance 
of  every  superfluity,  while  the  whole  share  of  another,  with- 
out any  demerit  of  his,  is  drudgery  and  starving;  and  that 
all  this  is  indispensable.  We  that  are  rich,  Mr.  Tyrrel, 
must  do  everything  in  our  power  to  lighten  the  yoke  of 
these  unfortunate  people.  We  must  not  use  the  advantage 
that  accident  has  given  us  with  an  unmerciful  hand.  Poor 
wretches!  they  are  pressed  almost  beyond  bearing  as  it  is; 
and  if  we  unfeelingly  give  another  turn  to  the  machine, 
they  will  be  crushed  into  atoms." 

This  picture  was  not  without  its  effect,  even  upon  the 
obdurate  mind  of  Mr.  Tyrrel. — "Well,  sir,  I  am  no  tyrant. 
I  know  very  well  that  tyranny  is  a  bad  thing.  But  you  do 
not  infer  from  thence  that  these  people  are  to  do  as  they 
please,  and  never  meet  with  their  deserts?" 

"Mr.  Tyrrel,  I  see  that  you  are  shaken  in  your  animos- 
ity. Suffer  me  to  hail  the  new-born  benevolence  of  your 
nature.  Go  with  me  to  Hawkins.  Do  not  let  us  talk  of 
his  deserts!  Poor  fellow!  he  has  suffered  almost  all  that 
human  nature  can  endure.  Let  your  forgiveness  upon  this 
occasion  be  the  earnest  of  good  neighbourhood  and  friend- 
ship between  you  and  me." 

"No,  sir,  I  will  not  go.  I  own  there  is  something  in 
what  you  say.  J^  always  knew  you  had  the  wit  to  make 
good  your  own  story,  and  tell  a  plausible  tale.  But  I  will 
not  be  come  over  thus.  It  has  been  my  character,  when  I 
had  once  conceived  a  scheme  of  vengeance  never  to  forego 
it;  and  I  will  not  change  that  character.  I  took  up  Haw- 
kins when  everybody  forsook  him,  and  made  a  man  of  him; 
and  the  ungrateful  rascal  has  only  insulted  me  for  my  pains. 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  97 

Curse  me,  if  I  ever  forgive  him!  It  would  be  a  good  jest 
indeed,  if  I  were  to  forgive  the  insolence  of  my  own  creature 
at  the  desire  of  a  man  like  you  that  has  been  my  perpetual 
plague." 

"For  God's  sake,  Mr.  Tyrrel,  have  some  reason  in  your 
resentment!  Let  us  suppose  that  Hawkins  has  behaved 
unjustifiably,  and  insulted  you:  is  that  an  offence  that  never 
can  be  expiated?  Must  the  father  be  ruined,  and  the  son 
hanged,  to  glut  your  resentment?" 

"Damn  me,  sir,  but  you  may  talk  your  heart  out;  you 
shall  get  nothing  of  me.  I  shall  never  forgive  myself  for 
having  listened  to  you  for  a  moment.  I  will  suffer  nobody 
to  stop  the  stream  of  my  resentment;  if  I  ever  were  to  for- 
give him,  it  should  be  at  nobody's  entreaty  but  my  own. 
But,  sir,  I  never  will.  If  he  and  all  his  family  were  at 
my  feet,  I  would  order  them  all  to  be  hanged  the  next 
minute,  if  my  power  were  as  good  as  my  will." 

"And  this  is  your  decision,  is  it?  Mr.  Tyrrel,  I  am 
ashamed  of  you!  Almighty  God!  to  hear  you  talk  gives 
one. a  loathing  for  the  institutions^ and  regulations  of  so- 
cietv.  and  would  induce  one  to  fly  the  very  face  of  man! 
But,  no!  society  casts  you  out;  man  abominates~y<m  No 
wealth,  no  rank,  can  buy  out  your  stain.  You  will  live\ 
deserted  in  the  midst  of  your  species;  you  will  go  into/ 
crowded  societies,  and  no  one  will  deign  so  much  as  to 
salute  you.  They  will  fly  from  your  glance  as  they  would 
from  the  gaze  of  a  basilisk.  Where  do  you  expect  to  find 
the  hearts  of  flint  that  shall  sympathize  with  yours?  You 
have  the  stamp  of  misery,  incessant,  undivided,  unpitied 
misery ! " 

Thus  saying,  Mr.  Falkland  gave  spurs  to  his  horse,  rudely 
pushed  beside  Mr.  Tyrrel,  and  was  presently  out  of  sight. 
Flaming  indignation  annihilated  e^pr>  hig  .faArmiritP  caiica 
,-athonour,  and  he  regard^  *"g  "Pighhnnr  q^--i  nTitntniij  TinfU 
whom  it  was  impossible  even  to  enter  into  contention.  For 
the  latter,  he  remained  for  the  present  motionless  and  pet- 
rified. The  glowing  enthusiasm  of  Mr.  Falkland  was  such 
as  might  well  have  unnerved  the  stoutest  foe.    Mr.  Tyrrel, 


98  CALEB  WILLIAMS 

in  spite  of  himself,  was  blasted  with  the  compunctions  of 
guilt,  and  unable  to  string  himself  for  the  contest.  The 
picture  Mr.  Falkland  had  drawn  was  prophetic.  It  de- 
scribed what  Mr.  Tyrrel  chiefly  feared;  and  what  in  its 
commencement  he  thought  he  already  felt.  It  was  respon- 
sive to  the  whispering  of  his  own  meditations;  it  simply 
gave  body  and  voice  to  the  spectre  that  haunted  him,  and 
to  the  terrors  of  which  he  was  an  hourly  prey. 

By-and-by,  however,  he  recovered.  The  more  he  had 
been  temporarily  confounded,  the  fiercer  was  his  resent- 
ment when  he  came  to  himself.  Such  hatred  never  existed 
in  a  human  bosom  without  marking  its  progress  with  vio- 
lence and  death.  Mr.  Tyrrel,  however,  felt  no  inclination 
to  have  recourse  to  personal  defiance.  He  was  the  furthest 
in  the  world  from  a  coward ;  but  his  genius  sunk  before  the 
genius  of  Falkland.  He  left  his  vengeance  to  the  disposal 
of  circumstances.  He  was  secure  that  his  animosity  would 
never  be  forgotten  nor  diminished  by  the  interposition  of 
any  time  or  events.  Vengeance  was  his  nightly  dream,  and 
the  uppermost  of  his  waking  thoughts. 

Mr.  Falkland  had  departed  from  this  conference  with  a 
confirmed  disapprobation  of  the  conduct  of  his  neighbour, 
and  an  unalterable  resolution  to  do  everything  in  his  power 
to  relieve  the  distresses  of  Hawkins.  But  he  was  too  late. 
When  he  arrived  he  found  the  house  already  evacuated  by 
its  master.  The  family  was  removed  nobody  knew  whither; 
Hawkins  had  absconded,  and,  what  was  still  more  extraor- 
dinary, the  boy  Hawkins  had  escaped  on  the  very  same 
day  from  the  county  jail.  The  inquiries  Mr.  Falkland  set 
on  foot  after  them  were  fruitless;  no  traces  could  be  found 
of  the  catastrophe  of  these  unhappy  people.  That  catas- 
trophe I  shall  shortly  have  occasion  to  relate,  and  it  will 
be  found  pregnant  with  horror,  beyond  what  the  blackest 
misanthropy  could  readily  have  suggested. 

I  go  on  with  my  tale.  I  go  on  to  relate  those  incidents 
in  which  my  own  fate  was  so  mysteriously  involved.  I  lift 
the  curtain,  and  bring  forward  the  last  act  of  the  tragedy. 


CHAPTER  TEN 

IT  may  easily  be  supposed,  that  the  ill  temper  cherished 
by  Mr.  Tyrrel  in  his  contention  with  Hawkins,  and 
the  increasing  animosity  between  him  and  Mr.  Falk- 
land, added  to  the  impatience  with  which  he  thought  of 
the  escape  of  Emily. 

Mr.  Tyrrel  heard  with  astonishment  of  the  miscarriage 
of  an  expedient,  of  the  success  of  which  he  had  not  pre- 
viously entertained  the  slightest  suspicion.  He  became 
frantic  with  vexation.  Grimes  had  not  dared  to  signify 
the  event  of  his  expedition  in  person,  and  the  footman 
whom  he  desired  to  announce  to  his  master  that  Miss 
Melville  was  lost,  the  moment  after  fled  from  his  presence 
with  the  most  dreadful  apprehensions.  Presently  he  bel- 
lowed for  Grimes,  and  the  young  man  at  last  appeared 
before  him,  more  dead  than  alive.  Grimes  he  compelled 
to  repeat  the  particulars  of  the  tale ;  which  he  had  no  sooner 
done  than  he  once  again  slunk  away,  shocked  at  the  exe- 
crations with  which  Mr.  Tyrrel  overwhelmed  him.  Grimes 
was  no  coward;  but  he  reverenced  the  inborn  divinity  that 
attends  upon  rank,  as  Indians  worship  the  Devil.  Nor  was 
this  all.  The  rage  of  Mr.  Tyrrel  was  so  ungovernable  and 
fierce,  that  few  hearts  could  have  been  found  so  stout  as 
not  to  have  trembled  before  it  with  a  sort  of  unconquerable 
inferiority. 

He  no  sooner  obtained  a  moment's  pause  than  he  began 
to  recall  to  his  tempestuous  mind  the  various  circumstances 
of  the  case.  His  complaints  were  bitter;  and,  in  a  tranquil 
observer,  might  have  produced  the  united  feeling  of  pity 
for  his  sufferings,  and  horror  at  his  depravity.  He  rec- 
ollected all  the  precautions  he  had  used;  he  could  scarcely 
find  a  flaw  in  the  process;  and  he  cursed  that  blind  and 

99 


ioo  ADVENTURES  OF 

malicious  power  which  delighted  to  cross  his  most  deep- 
laid  schemes.  "Of  this  malice  he  was  beyond  all  other 
V  human  beings  the  object.  He  was  mocked  with  the  shadow 
of  power,  and  when  he  lifted  his  hand  to  smite,  it  was 
struck  with  sudden  palsy.  [In  the  bitterness  of  his  an- 
guish, he  forgot  his  recent  triumph  over  Hawkins,  or  per- 
haps he  regarded  it  less  as  a  triumph  than  an  overthrow, 
because  it  had  failed  of  coming  up  to  the  extent  of  his 
malice.]  To  what  purpose  had  Heaven  given  him  a  feeling 
of  injury,  and  an  instinct  to  resent,  while  he  could  in  no 
case  make  his  resentment  felt!  It  was  only  necessary  for 
him  to  be  the  enemy  of  any  person,  to  ensure  that  person's 
being  safe  against  the  reach  of  misfortune.  What  insults, 
the  most  shocking  and  repeated,  had  he  received  from  this 
paltry  girl!  And  by  whom  was  she  now  torn  from  his 
indignation?  By  that  devil  that  haunted  him  at  every 
moment,  that  crossed  him  at  every  step,  that  fixed  at  pleas- 
ure his  arrows  in  his  heart,  and  made  mows  and  mockery 
at  his  insufferable  tortures." 

There  was  one  other  reflection  that  increased  his  anguish, 
and  made  him  careless  and  desperate  as  to  his  future 
conduct.  It  was  in  vain  to  conceal  from  himself  that  his 
reputation  would  be  cruelly  wounded  by  this  event.  He  had 
imagined,  that  while  Emily  was  forced  into  this  odious 
marriage,  she  would  be  obliged  by  decorum,  as  soon  as  the 
event  was  decided,  to  draw  a  veil  over  the  compulsion  she 
had  suffered.  But  this  security  was  now  lost,  and  Mr. 
Falkland  would  take  a  pride  in  publishing  his  dishonour. 
Though  the  provocations  he  had  received  from  Miss  Mel- 
ville would,  in  his  own  opinion,  have  justified  him  in  any 
treatment  he  should  have  thought  proper  to  inflict,  he  was 
sensible  the  world  would  see  the  matter  in  a  different  light. 
This  reflection  augmented  the  violence  of  his  resolutions, 
and  determined  him  to  refuse  no  means  by  which  he  could 
transfer  the  anguish  that  now  preyed  upon  his  own  mind 
to  that  of  another. 

Meanwhile  the  composure  and  magnanimity  of  Emily  had 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  101 

considerably  subsided,  the  moment  she  believed  herself  in 
a  place  of  safety.    While  danger  and  injustice  assailed  her 
with  their  menaces,  she  found  in  herself  a  courage  that  dis- 
dained to  yield.     The  succeeding  appearance  of  calm  was 
more  fatal  to  her.    There  was  nothing  now  powerfully  to 
foster  her  courage  or  excite  her  energy.     She  looked  back 
at  the  trials  she  had  passed,  and  her  soul  sickened  at  the 
recollection  of  that  which,  while  it  was  in  act,  she  had  had 
the   fortitude  to  endure.     Till   the  period  at  which   Mr. 
Tyrrell  had  been  inspired  with  this  cruel  antipathy,  she 
had  been  in  all  instances  a  stranger  to  anxiety  and  fear. 
Uninured  to  misfortune,   she  had   suddenly  and  without 
preparation  been  made  the  subject  of  the  most  infernal 
malignity.    When  a  man  of  robust  and  vigorous  constitution 
has  a  fit  of  sickness,  it  produces  a  more  powerful  effect 
than  the  same  indisposition  upon  a  delicate  valetudinarian. 
Such  was  the  case  with  Miss  Melville.     She  passed  the 
succeeding  night  sleepless  and  uneasy,  and  was  found  in 
the  morning  with  a  high  fever.    Her  distemper  resisted  for 
the  present  all  attempts  to  assuage  it,  though  there  was 
reason  to  hope  that  the  goodness  of  her  constitution,  assisted 
by  tranquillity  and  the  kindness  of  those  about  her,  would 
ultimately  surmount  it.     On  the  second  day  she  was  de- 
lirious.   On  the  night  of  that  day  she  was  arrested  at  the 
suit  of  Mr.  Tyrrel,  for  a  debt  contracted  for  board  and 
necessaries  for  the  last  fourteen  years. 

The  idea  of  this  arrest,  as  the  reader  will  perhaps  rec- 
ollect, first  occurred  in  the  conversation  between  Mr.  Tyr- 
rel and  Miss  Melville,  soon  after  he  had  thought  proper 
to  confine  her  to  her  chamber.  But  at  that  time  he  had 
probably  no  serious  conception  of  ever  being  induced  to 
carry  it  into  execution.  It  had  merely  been  mentioned 
by  way  of  threat,  and  as  the  suggestion  of  a  mind  whose 
habits  had  long  been  accustomed  to  contemplate  every  pos- 
sible instrument  of  tyranny  and  revenge.  But  now  that  the 
unlooked-for  rescue  and  escape  of  this  poor  kinswoman 
had  wrought  up  his  thoughts  to  a  degree  of  insanity,  and 


102  ADVENTURES  OF 

that  he  revolved  in  the  gloomy  recesses  of  his  mind  how 
he  might  best  shake  off  the  load  of  disappointment  which 
oppressed  him,  the  idea  recurred  with  double  force.  He 
was  not  long  in  forming  his  resolution;  and  calling  for 
Barnes,  his  steward,  immediately  gave  him  directions  in 
what  manner  to  proceed. 

Barnes  had  been  for  several  years  the  instrument  of 
Mr.  Tyrrel's  injustice.  His  mind  was  hardened  by  use, 
and  he  could,  without  remorse,  officiate  as  the  spectator, 
or  even  as  the  author  and  director,  of  a  scene  of  vulgar 
distress.  But  even  he  was  somewhat  startled  upon  the 
present  occasion.  The  character  and  conduct  of  Emily  in 
Mr.  Tyrrel's  family  had  been  without  a  blot.  She  had 
not  a  single  enemy;  and  it  was  impossible  to  contemplate 
her  youth,  her  vivacity,  and  her  guileless  innocence  without 
emotions  of  sympathy  and  compassion. 

"Your  worship? — I  do  not  understand  you! — Arrest  Miss 
— Miss  Emily!" 

"Yes, — I  tell  you! — What  is  the  matter  with  you? — Go 
instantly  to  Swineard,  the  lawyer,  and  bid  him  finish  the 
business  out  of  hand!" 

"Lord  love  your  honour!  Arrest  her!  Why  she  does  not 
owe  you  a  brass  farthing:  she  always  lived  upon  your 
charity!" 

"Ass!  Scoundrel!  I  tell  you  she  does  owe  me — owes 
me  eleven  hundred  pounds. — The  law  justifies  it. — What 
do  you  think  laws  were  made  for?  I  do  nothing  but  right, 
and  right  I  will  have." 

"Your  honour,  I  never  questioned  your  orders  in  my  life ; 
but  I  must  now.  I  cannot  see  you  ruin  Miss  Emily,  poor 
girl!  nay,  and  yourself  too,  for  the  matter  of  that,  and 
not  say  which  way  you  are  going.  I  hope  you  will  bear 
with  me.  Why,  if  she  owed  you  ever  so  much,  she  cannot 
be  arrested.    She  is  not  of  age." 

"Will  you  have  done? — Do  not  tell  me  of — It  cannot,  and 
it  can.  It  has  been  done  before, — and  it  shall  be  done 
again.     Let  him  dispute  it  that  dares!     I  will  do  it  now, 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  103 

and  stand  to  it  afterward.  Tell  Swineard, — if  he  makes 
the  least  boggling,  it  is  as  much  as  his  life  is  worth; — he 
shall  starve  by  inches." 

"Pray,  your  honour,  think  better  of  it.  Upon  my  life, 
the  whole  country  will  cry  shame  of  it." 

" Barnes!  What  do  you  mean?  I  am  not  used  to  be 
talked  to,  and  I  cannot  bear  it!  You  have  been  a  good 
fellow  to  me  upon  many  occasions. — But  if  I  find  you  out 
for  making  one  with  them  that  dispute  my  authority,  damn 
my  soul,  if  I  do  not  make  you  sick  of  your  life!" 

"I  have  done,  your  honour.  I  will  not  say  another  word 
except  this, — I  have  heard  as  how  that  Miss  Emily  is  sick 
a-bed.  You  are  determined,  you  say,  to  put  her  in  jail. 
You  do  not  mean  to  kill  her,  I  take  it." 

"Let  her  die!  I  will  not  spare  her  for  an  hour. — I  will 
not  always  be  insulted.  She  had  no  consideration  for  me, 
and  I  have  no  mercy  for  her. — I  am  in  for  it!  They  have 
provoked  me  past  bearing, — and  they  shall  feel  me!  Tell 
Swineard,  in  bed  or  up,  day  or  night,  I  will  not  hear  of  an 
instant's  delay." 

Such  were  the  directions  of  Mr.  Tyrrel,  and  in  strict 
conformity  to  his  directions  were  the  proceedings  of  that 
respectable  limb  of  the  law  he  employed  upon  the  present 
occasion.  Miss  Melville  had  been  delirious  through  a  con- 
siderable part  of  the  day  on  the  evening  of  which  the  bailiff 
and  his  follower  arrived.  By  the  direction  of  the  physician 
whom  Mr.  Falkland  had  ordered  to  attend  her,  a  composing 
draught  was  administered ;  and,  exhausted  as  she  was  by  the 
wild  and  distracted  images  that  for  several  hours  had 
haunted  her  fancy,  she  was  now  sunk  into  a  refreshing 
slumber.  Mrs.  Hammond,  the  sister  of  Mrs.  Jakeman,  was 
sitting  by  her  bedside,  full  of  compassion  for  the  lovely 
sufferer,  and  rejoicing  in  the  calm  tranquillity  that  had  just 
taken  possession  of  her,  when  a  little  girl,  the  only  child 
of  Mrs.  Hammond,  opened  the  street-door  to  the  rap  of 
the  bailiff.  He  said  he  wanted  to  speak  to  Miss  Melville, 
and  the  child  answered  that  she  would  go  tell  her  mother. 


X 


104  ADVENTURES  OF 

So  saying,  she  advanced  to  the  door  of  the  back-room 
upon  the  ground-floor,  in  which  Emily  lay ;  but  the  moment 
it  was  opened,  instead  of  waiting  for  the  appearance  of  the 
mother,  the  bailiff  entered  along  with  the  girl. 

Mrs.  Hammond  looked  up.     "Who  are  you!"  said  she. 
"Why  do  you  come  in  here?    Hush!  be  quiet!" 
"I  must  speak  with  Miss  Melville." 
"Indeed,  but  you  must  not.    Tell  me  your  business.    The 
poor  child  has  been  light-headed  all  day.     She  has  just 
fallen  asleep,  and  must  not  be  disturbed." 

"That  is  no  business  of  mine.     I  must  obey  orders." 
"Orders?     Whose  orders?     What  is  it  you  meanP' 
At  this  moment  Emily  opened  her  eyes.    "What  noise  is 
that?    Pray  let  me  be  quiet." 

"Miss,  I  want  to  speak  with  you.  I  have  got  a  writ 
against  you  for  eleven  hundred  pounds  at  the  suit  of 
Squire  Tyrrel." 

At  these  words  both  Mrs.  Hammond  and  Emily  were 
dumb.  The  latter  was  scarcely  able  to  annex  any  meaning 
to  the  intelligence;  and  though  Mrs.  Hammond  was  some- 
what better  acquainted  with  the  sort  of  language  that  was 
employed,  yet  in  this  strange  and  unexpected  connexion1  it 
was  almost  as  mysterious  to  her  as  to  poor  Emily  herself. 
"A  writ?  How  can  she  be  in  Mr.  Tyrrel's  debt?  A 
writ  against  a  child!" 

"It  is  no  signification  putting  your  questions  to  us.  We 
only  do  as  we  are  directed.  There  is  our  authority.  Look 
at  it." 

"Lord  Almighty!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Hammond,  "what  does 
this  mean?  It  is  impossible  Mr.  Tyrrel  should  have  sent 
you." 

"Good  woman,  none  of  your  jabber  to  us!  Cannot  you 
read?" 

"This  is  all  a  trick!     The  paper  is  forged!     It  is  a  vil 
contrivance  to  get  the  poor  orphan  out  of  the  hands  o 
those  with  whom  only  she  can  be  safe.     Proceed  upon  it 
at  your  peril!" 


u 

5 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  105 

"Rest  you  content;  that  is  exactly  what  we  mean  to  do. 
Take  my  word,  we  know  very  well  what  we  are  about." 

"Why,  you  would  not  tear  her  from  her  bed?  I  tell 
you,  she  is  in  a  high  fever;  she  is  light-headed;  it  would 
be  death  to  remove  her!  You  are  bailiffs,  are  not  you?  You 
are  not  murderers?" 

"The  law  says  nothing  about  that.  We  have  orders  to 
take  her  sick  or  well.  We  will  do  her  no  harm;  except 
so  far  as  we  must  perform  our  office,  be  it  how  it  will." 

"Where  would  you  take  her?  What  is  it  you  mean  to 
do?" 

"To  the  county  jail.  Bullock,  go  order  a  post-chaise 
from  the  Griffin!" 

"Stay,  I  say!  Give  no  such  orders!  Wait  only  three 
hours;  I  will  send  off  a  messenger  express  to  Squire  Falk- 
land, and  I  am  sure  he  will  satisfy  you  as  to  any  harm 
that  can  come  to  you,  without  its  being  necessary  to  take 
the  poor  child  to  jail." 

"We  have  particular  directions  against  that.  We  are  not 
at  liberty  to  lose  a  minute.  Why  are  not  you  gone?  Order 
the  horses  to  be  put  to  immediately!" 

Emily  had  listened  to  the  course  of  this  conversation, 
which  had  sufficiently  explained  to  her  whatever  was  enig- 
matical in  the  first  appearance  of  the  bailiffs.  The  painful 
and  incredible  reality  that  was  thus  presented  effectually 
dissipated  the  illusions  of  phrensy  to  which  she  had  just 
been  a  prey.  "My  dear  Madam,"  said  she  to  Mrs.  Ham- 
mond, "do  not  harass  yourself  with  useless  efforts.  I  am 
very  sorry  for  all  the  trouble  I  have  given  you.  But  my 
misfortune  is  inevitable.  Sir,  if  you  will  step  into  the  next 
room,  I  will  dress  myself,  and  attend  you  immediately." 

Mrs.  Hammond  began  to  be  equally  aware  that  her  strug- 
gles were  to  no  purpose;  but  she  could  not  be  equally 
patient.  At  one  moment  she  raved  upon  the  brutality  of 
Mr.  Tyrrel,  whom  she  affirmed  to  be  a  devil  incarnate,  and 
not  a  man.  At  another  she  expostulated  with  bitter  invec- 
tive against  the  hard-heartedness  of  the  bailiff,  and  exhorted 


io6  ADVENTURES  OF 


him  to  mix  some  humanity  and  moderation  with  the  dis- 
charge of  his  function;  but  he  was  impenetrable  to  all  she 
could  urge.  In  the  mean  while  Emily  yielded  with  the 
sweetest  resignation  to  an  inevitable  evil.  Mrs.  Hammond 
insisted  that,  at  least,  they  should  permit  her  to  attend 
her  young  lady  in  the  chaise;  and  the  bailiff,  though  the 
orders  he  had  received  were  so  peremptory  that  he  dared 
not  exercise  his  discretion  as  to  the  execution  of  the  writ, 
began  to  have  some  apprehensions  of  danger,  and  was  willing 
to  admit  of  any  precaution  that  was  not  in  direct  hostility 
to  his  functions.  For  the  rest,  he  understood  that  it  was 
in  all  cases  dangerous  to  allow  sickness,  or  apparent  unfit- 
ness for  removal,  as  a  sufficient  cause  to  interrupt  a  direct 
process;  and  that,  accordingly,  in  all  doubtful  questions 
and  presumptive  murders,  the  practice  of  the  law  inclined, 
with  a  laudable  partiality,  to  the  vindication  of  its  own 
officers.  In  addition  to  these  general  rules,  he  was  in- 
fluenced by  the  positive  injunctions  and  assurances  of 
Swineard,  and  the  terror  which,  through  a  circle  of  many 
miles,  was  annexed  to  the  name  of  Tyrrel.  Before  they 
departed,  Mrs.  Hammond  despatched  a  messenger  with  a 
letter  of  three  lines  to  Mr.  Falkland,  informing  him  of  this 
extraordinary  event.  Mr.  Falkland  was  from  home  when 
the  messenger  arrived,  and  not  expected  to  return  till  the 
second  day;  accident  seemed  in  this  instance  to  favour  the 
vengeance  of  Mr.  Tyrrel,  for  he  had  himself  been  too  much 
under  the  dominion  of  an  uncontrollable  fury  to  take  a  cir- 
cumstance of  this  sort  into-  his  estimate. 

The  forlorn  state  of  these  poor  women,  who  were  con- 
ducted, the  one  by  compulsion,  the  other  a  volunteer,  to  a 
scene  so  little  adapted  to  their  accommodation  as  that  of  a 
common  jail,  may  easily  be  imagined.  Mrs.  Hammond, 
however,  was  endowed  with  a  masculine  courage  and  im- 
petuosity of  spirit,  eminently  necessary  in  the  difficulties 
they  had  to  encounter.  She  was  in  some  degree  fitted  by 
a  sanguine  temper,  and  an  impassioned  sense  of  injustice, 
for  the  discharge  of  those  very  offices  which  sobriety  and 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  107 

calm  reflection  might  have  prescribed.  The  health  of  Miss 
Melville  was  materially  affected  by  the  surprise  and  re- 
moval she  had  undergone  at  the  very  time  that  repose  was 
most  necessary  for  her  preservation.  Her  fever  became 
more  violent;  her  delirium  was  stronger;  and  the  tortures 
of  her  imagination  were  proportioned  to  the  unfavourable- 
ness  of  the  state  in  which  the  removal  had  been  effected. 
It  was  highly  improbable  that  she  could  recover. 

In  the  moments  of  suspended  reason  she  was  perpetually 
calling  on  the  name  of  Falkland.  Mr.  Falkland,  she  said, 
was  her  first  and  only  love,  and  he  should  be  her  husband. 
A  moment  after  she  exclaimed  upon  him,  in  a  disconsolate 
yet  reproachful  tone,  for  his  unworthy  deference  to  the 
prejudices  of  the  world.  I  It  was  very  cruel  of  him  to  show 
himself  so  proud,  and  tell  her  that  he  would  never  consent 
to  marry  a  beggar.  But  if  he  were  proud,  she  was  deter- 
mined to  be  proud  too.  He  should  see  that  she  would  not 
conduct  herself  like  a  slighted  maiden,  and  that,  though 
he  could  reject  her,  it  was  not  in  his  power  to  break  her 
heart.  At  another  time  she  imagined  she  saw  Mr.  Tyrrel 
and  his  engine  Grimes,  their  hands  and  garments  dropping 
with  blood;  and  the  pathetic  reproaches  she  vented  against 
them  might  have  affected  a  heart  of  stone.  Then  the  figure 
of  Falkland  presented  itself  to  her  distracted  fancy,  de- 
formed with  wounds,  and  of  a  deadly  paleness;  and  she 
shrieked  with  agony,  while  she  exclaimed  that  such  was  the 
general  hard-heartedness,  that  no  one  would  make  the  small- 
est exertion  for  his  rescue.  In  such  vicissitudes  of  pain, 
perpetually  imagining  to  herself  unkindness,  insult,  con- 
spiracy, and  murder,  she  passed  a  considerable  part  of  two 
days. 

On  the  evening  of  the  second  Mr.  Falkland  arrived,  ac- 
companied by  Doctor  Wilson,  the  physician  by  whom  she 
had  previously  been  attended.  The  scene  he  was  called 
upon  to  witness  was  such  as  to  be  most  exquisitely  agoniz- 
ing to  a  man  of  his  acute  sensibility.  The  news  of  the 
arrest  had  given  him  an  inexpressible  shock;  he  was  trans- 


108  ADVENTURES  OF 

ported  out  of  himself  at  the  unexampled  malignity  of  its 
author.  But  when  he  saw  the  figure  of  Miss  Melville,  hag- 
gard, and  a  warrant  of  death  written  in  her  countenance, 
a  victim  to  the  diabolical  passions  of  her  kinsman,  it  seemed 
too  much  to  be  endured.  When  he  entered,  she  was  in 
the  midst  of  one  of  her  fits  of  delirium,  and  immediately 
mistook  her  visitors  for  two  assassins.  She  asked  where 
they  had  hid  her  Falkland,  her  lord,  her  life,  her  husband! 
and  demanded  that  they  should  restore  to  her  his  mangled 
corpse,  that  she  might  embrace  him  with  her  dying  arms, 
breathe  her  last  upon  his  lips,  and  be  buried  in  the  same 
grave.  She  reproached  them  with  the  sordidness  of  their 
conduct  in  becoming  the  tools  of  her  vile  cousin,  who  had 
deprived  her  of  her  reason,  and  would  never  be  contented 
till  he  had  murdered  her.  Mr.  Falkland  tore  himself  away 
from  this  painful  scene,  and  leaving  Doctor  Wilson  with 
his  patient,  desired  him,  when  he  had  given  the  necessary 
directions,  to  follow  him  to  his  inn. 

The  perpetual  hurry  of  spirits  in  which  Miss  Melville 
had  been  kept  for  several  days  by  the  nature  of  her  indis- 
position was  extremely  exhausting  to  her;  and  in  about  an 
hour  from  the  visit  of  Mr.  Falkland,  her  delirium  subsided, 
and  left  her  in  so  low  a  state  as  to  render  it  difficult  to 
perceive  any  signs  of  life.  Doctor  Wilson,  who  had  with- 
drawn, to  sooth,  if  possible,  the  disturbed  and  impatient 
thoughts  of  Mr.  Falkland,  was  summoned  afresh  upon  this 
change  of  symptoms,  and  sat  by  the  bedside  during  the 
remainder  of  the  night.  The  situation  of  his  patient  was 
such  as  to  keep  him  in  momentary  apprehension  of  her 
decease.  While  Miss  Melville  lay  in  this  feeble  and  ex- 
hausted condition,  Mrs.  Hammond  betrayed  every  token 
of  the  tenderest  anxiety.  Her  sensibility  was  habitually 
of  the  acutest  sort,  and  the  qualities  of  Emily  were  such 
as  powerfully  to  fix  her  affection.  She  loved  her  like  a 
mother.  Upon  the  present  occasion  every  sound,  every 
motion,  made  her  tremble.  Doctor  Wilson  had  introduced 
another  nurse,   in  consideration  of  the  incessant  fatigue 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  109 

Mrs.  Hammond  had  undergone;  and  he  endeavoured  by 
representations,  and  even  by  authority,  to  compel  her  to 
quit  the  apartment  of  the  patient.  But  she  was  uncontrolla- 
ble; and  he  at  length  found  that  he  should  probably  do  her 
more  injury  by  the  violence  that  would  be  necessary  to 
separate  her  from  the  suffering  innocent,  than  by  allowing 
her  to  follow  her  inclination.  Her  eye  was  a  thousand 
times  turned,  with  the  most  eager  curiosity,  upon  the  coun- 
tenance of  Doctor  Wilson,  without  her  daring  to  breathe  a 
question  respecting  his  opinion,  lest  he  should  answer  her 
by  a  communication  of  the  most  fatal  tidings.  In  the 
meantime  she  listened  with  the  deepest  attention  to  every- 
thing that  dropped  either  from  the  physician  or  the  nurse, 
hoping  to  collect,  as  it  were,  from  some  oblique  hint,  the 
intelligence  which  she  had  not  courage  expressly  to  require. 
Towards  morning  the  state  of  the  patient  seemed  to  take 
a  favourable  turn.  She  dozed  for  near  two  hours,  and, 
when  she  awoke,  appeared  perfectly  calm  and  sensible. 
Understanding  that  Mr.  Falkland  had  brought  the  physician 
to  attend  her,  and  was  himself  in  her  neighbourhood,  she 
requested  to  see  him.  Mr.  Falkland  had  gone,  in  the  mean- 
time, with  one  of  his  tenants,  to  bail  the  debt,  and  now 
entered  the  prison  to  inquire  whether  the  young  lady  might 
be  safely  removed  from  her  present  miserable  residence 
to  a  more  airy  and  commodious  apartment.  When  he  ap- 
peared, the  sight  of  him  revived  in  the  mind  of  Miss  Mel- 
ville an  imperfect  recollection  of  the  wanderings  of  her 
delirium.  She  covered  her  face  with  her  fingers,  and  be- 
trayed the  most  expressive  confusion,  while  she  thanked  him, 
with  her  usual  unaffected  simplicity,  for  the  trouble  he  had 
taken.  She  hoped  she  should  not  give  him  much  more;  she 
thought  she  should  get  better.  It  was  a  shame,  she  said, 
if  a  young  and  lively  girl  as  she  was  could  not  contrive 
to  outlive  the  trifling  misfortunes  to  which  she  had  been 
subjected.  But  while  she  said  this  she  was  still  extremely 
weak.  She  tried  to  assume  a  cheerful  countenance;  but  it 
was  a  faint  effort,  which  the  feeble  state  of  her  frame  did 


no  ADVENTURES  OF 


not  seem  sufficient  to  support.  Mr.  Falkland  and  the  doc- 
tor joined  to  request  her  to  keep  herself  quiet,  and  avoid 
for  the  present  all  occasions  of  exertion. 

Encouraged  by  these  appearances,  Mrs.  Hammond  ven- 
tured to  follow  the  two  gentlemen  out  of  the  room,  in 
order  to  learn  from  the  physician  what  hopes  he  entertained. 
Doctor  Wilson  acknowledged  that  he  found  his  patient  at 
first  in  a  very  unfavourable  situation,  that  the  symptoms 
were  changed  for  the  better,  and  that  he  was  not  without 
some  expectation  of  her  recovery.  He  added,  however,  that 
he  could  answer  for  nothing;  that  the  next  twelve  hours 
would  be  exceedingly  critical,  but  that  if  she  did  not  grow 
worse  before  morning,  he  would  then  undertake  for  her  life. 
Mrs.  Hammond,  who  had  hitherto  seen  nothing  but  despair, 
now  became  frantic  with  joy.  She  burst  into  tears  of 
transport,  blessed  the  physician  in  the  most  emphatic  and 
impassioned  terms,  and  uttered  a  thousand  extravagancies. 
Doctor  Wilson  seized  this  opportunity  to  press  her  to  give 
herself  a  little  repose,  to  which  she  consented,  a  bed  being 
first  procured  for  her  in  the  room  next  to  Miss  Melville's, 
she  having  charged  the  nurse  to  give  her  notice  of  any  altera- 
tion in  the  state  of  the  patient. 

Mrs.  Hammond  enjoyed  an  uninterrupted  sleep  of  sev- 
eral hours.  It  was  already  night,  when  she  was  awaked 
by  an  unusual  bustle  in  the  next  room.  She  listened  for 
a  few  moments,  and  then  determined  to  go  and  discover 
the  occasion  of  it.  As  she  opened  her  door  for  that  purpose, 
she  met  the  nurse  coming  to  her.  The  countenance  of  the 
messenger  told  her  what  it  was  she  had  to  communicate, 
without  the  use  of  words.  She  hurried  to  the  bedside,  and 
found  Miss  Melville  expiring.  The  appearances  that  had 
at  first  been  so  encouraging  were  of  short  duration.  The 
calm  of  the  morning  proved  to  be  only  a  sort  of  lightening 
before  death.  In  a  few  hours  the  patient  grew  worse.  The 
bloom  of  her  countenance  faded;  she  drew  her  breath  with 
difficulty ;  and  her  eyes  became  fixed.  Doctor  Wilson  came 
in  at  this  period,  and  immediately  perceived  that  all  was 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  in 

over.  She  was  for  some  time  in  convulsions;  but  these 
subsiding,  she  addressed  the  physician  with  a  composed, 
though  feeble  voice.  She  thanked  him  for  his  attention ;  and 
expressed  the  most  lively  sense  of  her  obligations  to  Mr.. 
Falkland.  She  sincerely  forgave  her  cousin,  and  hoped 
he  might  never  be  visited  by  too  acute  a  recollection  of  his 
barbarity  to  her.  She  would  have  been  contented  to  live. 
Few  persons  had  a  sincerer  relish  of  the  pleasures  of  life; 
but  she  was  well  pleased  to  die,  rather  than  have  become 
the  wife  of  Grimes.  As  Mrs.  Hammond  entered,  she  turned 
her  countenance  towards  her,  and  with  an  affectionate  ex- 
pression repeated  her  name.  This  was  her  last  word;  in 
less  than  two  hours  from  that  time  she  breathed  her  last 
in  the  arms  of  this  faithful  friend. 


CHAPTER  ELEVEN 

SUCH  was  the  fate  of  Miss  Emily  Melville.  Perhaps 
tyranny  never  exhibited  a  more  painful  memorial  of 
the  detestation  in  which  it  deserves  to  be  held.  The 
idea  irresistibly  excited  in  every  spectator  of  the  scene  was 
that  of  regarding  Mr.  Tyrrel  as  the  most  diabolical  wretch 
that  had  ever  dishonoured  the  human  form.  The  very  at- 
tendants upon  this  house  of  oppression,  for  the  scene  was 
acted  upon  too  public  a  stage  not  to  be  generally  under- 
stood, expressed  their  astonishment  and  disgust  at  his  un- 
paralleled cruelty. 

If  such  were  the  feelings  of  men  bred  to  the  commission 
of  injustice,  it  is  difficult  to  say  what  must  have  been  those 
of  Mr.  Falkland.  He  raved,  he  swore,  he  beat  his  head, 
he  rent  up  his  hair.  He  was  unable  to  continue  in  one 
posture,  and  to  remain  in  one  place.  He  burst  away  from 
the  spot  with  vehemence,  as  if  he  sought  to  leave  behind 
him  his  recollection  and  his  existence.  He  seemed  to  tear 
up  the  ground  with  fierceness  and  rage.  He  returned  soon 
again.  He  approached  the  sad  remains  of  what  had  been 
Emily,  and  gazed  on  them  with  such  intentness,  that  his 
eyes  appeared  ready  to  burst  from  their  sockets.  Acute 
and  exquisite  as  were  his  notions  of  virtue  and  honour, 
he  could  not  prevent  himself  from  reproaching  the  system 
of  nature,  for  having  given  birth  to  such  a  monster  as 
Tyrrel.  He  was  ashamed  of  himself  for  wearing  the  same 
form.  He  could  not  think  of  the  human  species  with 
patience.  He  foamed  with  indignation  against  the  laws  of 
the  universe,  that  did  not  permit  him  to  crush  such  reptiles 
at  a  blow,  as  we  would  crush  so  many  noxious  insects.  It 
was  necessary  to  guard  him  like  a  madman. 
t The  whole  office  of  judging  what  was  proper  to  be  done 

112 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  113 

under  the  present  circumstances  devolved  upon  Doctor  Wil- 
son. The  doctor  was  a  man  of  cool  and  methodical  habits 
of  acting.  One  of  the  first  ideas  that  suggested  itself  to 
him  was,  that  Miss  Melville  was  a  branch  of  the  family 
of  Tyrrel.  He  did  not  doubt  of  the  willingness  of  Mr. 
Falkland  to  discharge  every  expense  that  might  be  further 
incident  to  the  melancholy  remains  of  this  unfortunate  vic- 
tim ;  but  he  conceived  that  the  laws  of  fashion  and  decorum 
required  some  notification  of  the  event  to  be  made  to  the 
head  of  the  family.  Perhaps,  too,  he  had  an  eye  to  his 
interest  in  his  profession,  and  was  reluctant  to  expose  him- 
self to  the  resentment  of  a  person  of  Mr.  Tyrrel 's  considera- 
tion in  the  neighbourhood.  But,  with  this  weakness,  he 
had  nevertheless  some  feelings  in  common  with  the  rest 
of  the  world,  and  must  have  suffered  considerable  violence 
before  he  could  have  persuaded  himself  to  be  the  messen- 
ger; besides  which  he  did  not  think  it  right  in  the  present 
situation  to  leave  Mr.  Falkland. 

Doctor  Wilson  no  sooner  mentioned  these  ideas,  than 
they  seemed  to  make  a  sudden  impression  on  Mrs.  Ham- 
mond, and  she  earnestly  requested  that  she  might  be  per- 
mitted to  carry  the  intelligence.  The  proposal  was  unex- 
pected; but  the  doctor  did  not  very  obstinately  refuse  his 
assent.  She  was  determined,  she  said,  to  see  what  sort  of 
impression  the  catastrophe  would  make  upon  the  author  of 
it;  and  she  promised  to  comport  herself  with  moderation 
and  civility.    The  journey  was  soon  performed. 

"I  am  come,  sir,"  said  she  to  Mr.  Tyrrel,  "to  inform  you 
that  your  cousin,  Miss  Melville,  died  this  afternoon." 

"Died?" 

"Yes,  sir.    I  saw  her  die.    She  died  in  these  arms." 

"Died?     Who  killed  her?     What  do  you  mean?" 

"Who?  Is  it  for  you  to  ask  that  question?  Your 
cruelty  and  malice  killed  her!" 

"Me? — my?— Poh!  she  is  not  dead — it  cannot  be — it  is 
not  a  week  since  she  left  this  house." 

"Do  not  you  believe  me?    I  say  she  is  dead!" 


ii4  ADVENTURES  OF 


"i 


'Have  a  care,  woman!  this  is  no  matter  for  jesting. 
No:  though  she  used  me  ill,  I  would  not  believe  her  dead 
for  all  the  world!" 

Mrs.  Hammond  shook  her  head  in  a  manner  expressive 
at  once  of  grief  and  indignation. 

"No,  no,  no,  no!     I  will  never  believe  that! — No,  never!" 

"Will  you  come  with  me,  and  convince  your  eyes?  It 
is  a  sight  worthy  of  you;  and  will  be  a  feast  to  such  a 
heart  as  yours!" — Saying  this,  Mrs.  Hammond  offered  her 
hand  as  if  to  conduct  him  to  the  spot. 

Mr.  Tyrrel  shrunk  back. 

"If  she  be  dead,  what  is  that  to  me?  Am  I  to  answer 
for  everything  that  goes  wrong  in  the  world? — What  do 
you  come  here  for?    Why  bring  your  messages  to  me?" 

"To  whom  should  I  bring  them  but  to  her  kinsman, — 
and  her  murderer." 

"Murderer? — Did  I  employ  knives  or  pistols?  Did  I 
give  her  poison?  I  did  nothing  but  what  the  law  allows. 
If  she  be  dead,  nobody  can  say  that  I  am  to  blame!" 

"To  blame? — All  the  world  will  abhor  and  curse  you. 
Were  you  such  a  fool  as  to  think,  because  men  pay  respect 
to  wealth  and  rank,  this  would  extend  to  such  a  deed? 
They  will  laugh  at  so  barefaced  a  cheat.  The  meanest 
beggar  will  spurn  and  spit  at  you.  Ay,  you  may  well  stand 
confounded  at  what  you  have  done.  I  will  proclaim  you  to 
the  whole  world,  and  you  will  be  obliged  to  fly  the  very 
face  of  a  human  creature!" 

"Good  woman,"  said  Mr.  Tyrrel,  extremely  humbled, 
"talk  no  more  in  this  strain! — Emmy  is  not  dead!  I  am 
sure — I  hope — she  is  not  dead! — Tell  me  that  you  have 
only  been  deceiving  me,  and  I  will  forgive  you  everything 
— I  will  forgive  her — I  will  take  her  into  favour — I  will  do 
anything  you  please! — I  never  meant  her  any  harm!" 

"I  tell  you  she  is  dead!  You  have  murdered  the  sweet- 
est innocent  that  lived!  Can  you  bring  her  back  to  life, 
as  you  have  driven  her  out  of  it?  If  you  could,  I  would 
kneel  to  you  twenty  times  a  day!     What  is  it  you  have 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  115 

done! — Miserable  wretch!  did  you  think  you  could  do  and 
undo,  and  change  things  this  way  and  that,  as  you  pleased?" 
The  reproaches  of  Mrs.  Hammond  were  the  first  instance 
in  which  Mr.  Tyrrel  was  made  to  drink  the  full  cup  of 
retribution.  This  was,  however,  only  a  specimen  of  a  long 
series  of  contempt,  abhorrence,  and  insult,  that  was  reserved 
for  him.  The  words  of  Mrs.  Hammond  were  prophetic. 
It  evidently  appeared,  that  though  wealth  and  hereditary 
elevation  operate  as  an  apology  for  many  delinquencies, 
there  are  some  which  so  irresistibly  address  themselves  to 
the  indignation  of  mankind,  that,  like  death,  they  level  all 
distinctions,  and  reduce  their  perpetrator  to  an  equality  with 
the  most  (jndigenL  and  squalid  of  his  species.  Against 
Mr.  Tyrrel7~as~~the  tyrannical  and  unmanly  murderer  of 
Emily,  those  who  dared  not  venture  the  unreserved  avowal 
of  their  sentiments  muttered  curses,  deep,  not  loud;  while 
the  rest  joined  in  a  universal  cry  of  abhorrence  and  exe- 
cration. He  stood  astonished  at  the  novelty  of  his  situa- 
tion. Accustomed  as  he  had  been  to  the  obedience  and 
trembling  homage  of  mankind,  he  had  imagined  they  would 
be  perpetual,  and  that  no  excess  on  his  part  would  ever  be 
potent  enough  to  break  the  enchantment.  Now  he  looked 
round,  and  saw  sullen  detestation  in  every  face,  which 
with  difficulty  restrained  itself,  and  upon  the  slightest 
provocation  broke  forth  with  an  impetuous  tide,  and  swept 
away  the  mounds  of  subordination  and  fear.  His  large  es- 
tate could  not  purchase  civility  from  the  gentry,  the  peas- 
antry, scarcely  from  his  own  servants.  In  the  indignation 
of  all  around  him  he  found  a  ghost  that  haunted  him  with 
every  change  of  place,  and  a  remorse  that  stung  his  con- 
science, and  exterminated  his  peace.  The  neighbourhood 
appeared  more  and  more  every  day  to  be  growing  too  hot 
for  him  to  endure,  and  it  became  evident  that  he  would 
ultimately  be  obliged  to  quit  the  country.  Urged  by  the 
flagitiousness  of  this  last  example,  people  learned  to  recol- 
lect every  other  instance  of  his  excesses,  and  it  was,  no 
doubt,  a  fearful  catalogue  that  rose  up  in  judgment  against 


t 


n6  ADVENTURES  OF 

him.  It  seemed  as  if  the  sense  of  public  resentment  had 
long  been  gathering  strength  unperceived,  and  now  burst 
forth  into  insuppressible  violence. 

There  was  scarcely  a  human  being  upon  whom  this  sort 
of  retribution  could  have  sat  more  painfully  than  upon 
Mr.  Tyrrel.  Though  he  had  not  a  consciousness  of  inno- 
cence prompting  him  continually  to  recoil  from  the  detesta- 
tion of  mankind  as  a  thing  totally  unallied  to  his  character, 
yet  the  imperiousness  of  his  temper,  and  the  constant  ex- 
perience he  had  had  of  the  pliability  of  other  men,  prepared 
him  to  feel  the  general  and  undisguised  condemnation  into 
which  he  was  sunk  with  uncommon  emotions  of  anger  and 
impatience.  That  he,  at  the  beam  of  whose  eye  every  coun- 
tenanance  fell,  and  to  whom  in  the  fierceness  of  his  wrath 
no  one  was  daring  enough  to  reply,  should  now  be  re- 
garded with  avowed  dislike,  and  treated  with  unceremonious 
censure,  was  a  thing  he  could  not  endure  to  recollect  or 
believe.  Symptoms  of  the  universal  disgust  smote  him  at 
every  instant,  and  at  every  blow  he  writhed  with  intolerable 
anguish.  His  rage  was  unbounded  and  raving.  He  re- 
pelled every  attack  with  the  fiercest  indignation;  while  the 
more  he  struggled,  the  more  desperate  his  situation  appeared 
to  become.  At  length  he  determined  to  collect  his  strength 
for  a  decisive  effort,  and  to  meet  the  whole  tide  of  public 
opinion  in  a  single  scene. 

In  pursuance  of  these  thoughts  he  resolved  to  repair, 
without  delay,  to  the  rural  assembly  which  I  have  already 
mentioned  in  the  course  of  my  story.  Miss  Melville  had 
now  been  dead  one  month.  Mr.  Falkland  had  been  absent 
the  last  week  in  a  distant  part  of  the  country,  and  was  not 
expected  to  return  for  a  week  longer.  Mr.  Tyrrel  willingly 
embraced  the  opportunity,  trusting  if  he  could  now  effect 
his  re-establishment,  that  he  should  easily  preserve  the 
ground  he  had  gained,  even  in  the  face  of  his  formidable 
rival.  Mr.  Tyrrel  was  not  deficient  in  courage;  but  he 
conceived  the  present  to  be  too  important  an  epoch  in  his 
life  to  allow  him  to  make  any  unnecessary  risk  in  his  chance 
for  future  ease  and  importance. 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  117 

There  was  a  sort  of  bustle  that  took  place  at  his  entrance 
into  the  assembly, — it  having  been  agreed  by  the  gentlemen 
of  the  assembly  that  Mr.  Tyrrel  was  to  be  refused  admit- 
tance, as  a  person  with  whom  they  did  not  choose  to  asso- 
ciate.    This  vote   had   already  been   notified  to   him   by 
letter  by  the  master  of  the  ceremonies,  but  the  intelligence 
was  rather  calculated,  with  a  man  of  Mr.  Tyrrel's  disposi- 
tion, to  excite  defiance  than  to  overawe.     At  the  door  of 
the  assembly  he  was  personally  met  by  the  master  of  the 
ceremonies,  who  had  perceived  the  arrival  of  an  equipage, 
and  who  now  endeavoured  to  repeat  his  prohibition:  but  he 
was  thrust  aside  by  Mr.   Tyrrel  with  an   air   of  native 
authority  and  ineffable  contempt.     As  he  entered,  every 
eye  was  turned  upon  him.     Presently  all  the  gentlemen  in 
the  room  assembled  round  him.    Some  endeavoured  to  hustle 
him,  and  others  began  to  expostulate.     But  he  found  the 
secret  effectually  to  silence  the  one  set,  and  to  shake  off 
the  other.    His  muscular  form,  the  well-known  eminence  of 
his  intellectual  powers,  the  long  habTts  to  which  every  man 
was  formed  of  acknowledging  his  ascendency,  were  all  in 
his  favour.     He  considered  himself  as  playing  a  desperate 
stake,  and  had  roused  all  the  energies  he  possessed,  to 
enable  him  to  do  justice  to  so  interesting  a  transaction. 
Disengaged  from  the  insects  that  at  first  pestered  him,  he 
paced  up  and  down  the  room  with  a  magisterial  stride,  and 
flashed  an  angry  glance  on  every  side.     He  then  broke 
silence.    "If  any  one  had  anything  to  say  to  him,  he  should 
know  where  and  how  to  answer  him.     He  would  advise 
any  such  person,  however,  to  consider  well  what  he  was 
about.     If  any  man  imagined  he  had  anything  personally 
to  complain  of,  it  was  very  well.     But  he  did  expect  that 
nobody  there  would  be  ignorant  and  raw  enough  to  meddle 
with  what  was  no  business  of  theirs,  and  intrude  into  the 
concerns  of  any  man's  private  family." 

This  being  a  sort  of  defiance,  one  and  another  gentleman 
advanced  to  answer  it.  He  that  was  first  began  to  speak; 
but  Mr.  Tyrrel,  by  the  expression  of  his  countenance  and 
a  peremptory  tone,  by  well-timed  interruptions  and  perti- 


n8  ADVENTURES  OF 

nent  insinuations,  caused  him  first  to  hesitate,  and  then  to 
be  silent.  He  seemed  to  be  fast  advancing  to  the  triumph 
he  had  promised  himself.  The  whole  company  were  as- 
tonished. They  felt  the  same  abhorrence  and  condemnation 
of  his  character;  but  they  could  not  help  admiring  the 
/  ^courage  and  resources  he  displayed  upon  the  present  occa- 
/  sion.    They  could  without  difficulty  have  concentered  afresh 

U    their  indignant  feelings,  but  they  seemed  to  want  a  leader. 

At  this  critical  moment  Mr.  Falkland  entered  the  room. 
Mere  accident  had  enabled  him  to  return  sooner  than  he 
expected. 

Both  he  and  Mr.  Tyrrel  reddened  at  sight  of  each  other. 
He  advanced  towards  Mr.  Tyrrel  without  a  moment's  pause, 
and  in  a  peremptory  voice  asked  him  what  he  did  there? 

"Here?  What  do  you  mean  by  that?  This  place  is  as 
free  to  me  as  you,  and  you  are  the  last  person  to  whom  I 
shall  deign  to  give  an  account  of  myself." 

"Sir,  the  place  is  not  free  to  you.  Do  not  you  know 
you  have  been  voted  out?  Whatever  were  your  rights, 
your  infamous  conduct  has  forfeited  them." 

"Mr.  what  do  you  call  yourself,  if  you  have  anything 
to  say  to  me,  choose  a  proper  time  and  place.  Do  not  think 
to  put  on  your  bullying  airs  under  shelter  of  this  company ! 
I  will  not  endure  it." 

"You  are  mistaken,  sir.  This  public  scene  is  the  only 
place  where  I  can  have  anything  to  say  to  you.  If  you 
would  not  hear  the  universal  indignation  of  mankind,  you 
must  not  come  into  the  society  of  men. — Miss  Melville!  — 
Shame  upon  you,  inhuman,  unrelenting  tyrant!  Can  you 
hear  her  name,  and  not  sink  into  the  earth?  Can  you 
retire  into  solitude,  and  not  see  her  pale  and  patient  ghost 
rising  to  reproach  you?  Can  you  recollect  her  virtues,  her 
innocence,  her  spotless  manners,  her  unresentful  temper, 
and  not  run  distracted  with  remorse?  Have  you  not  killed 
her  in  the  first  bloom  of  her  youth?  Can  you  bear  to 
think  that  she  now  lies  mouldering  in  the  grave  through 
your  cursed  contrivance,  that  deserved  a  crown,  ten  thou- 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  119 

sand  times  more  than  you  deserve  to  live?  And  do  you 
expect  that  mankind  will  ever  forget,  or  forgive  such  a 
deed?  Go,  miserable  wretch;  think  yourself  too  happy  that 
you  are  permitted  to  fly  the  face  of  man!  Why,  what  a 
pitiful  figure  do  you  make  at  this  moment!  Do  you  think 
that  anything  could  bring  so  hardened  a  wretch  as  you 
are  to  shrink  from  reproach,  if  your  conscience  were  not 
in  confederacy  with  them  that  reproached  you?  And  were 
you  fool  enough  to  believe  that  any  obstinacy,  however 
determined,  could  enable  you  to  despise  the  keen  rebuke 
of  justice?  Go,  shrink  into  your  miserable  self!  Begone, 
and  let  me  never  be  blasted  with  your  sight  again!" 

And  here,  incredible  as  it  may  appear,  Mr.  Tyrrel  began 
to  obey  his  imperious  censurer.  His  looks  were  full  of 
wildness  and  horror;  his  limbs  trembled;  and  his  tongue 
refused  its  office.  He  felt  no  power  of  resisting  the  im- 
petuous torrent  of  reproach  that  was  poured  upon  him.  He 
hesitated;  he  was  ashamed  of  his  own  defeat;  he  seemed 
to  wish  to  deny  it.  But  his  struggles  were  ineffectual; 
every  attempt  perished  in  the  moment  it  was  made.  The 
general  voice  was  eager  to  abash  him.  As  his  confusion 
became  more  visible,  the  outcry  increased.  It  swelled  grad- 
ually to  hootings,  tumult,  and  a  deafening  noise  of  indig- 
nation. At  length  he  willingly  retired  from  the  public  scene, 
unable  any  longer  to  endure  the  sensations  it  inflicted. 

In  about  an  hour  and  a  half  he  returned.  No  precaution 
had  been  taken  against  this  incident,  for  nothing  could  be 
more  unexpected.  In  the  interval  he  had  intoxicated  him- 
self with  large  draughts  of  brandy.  In  a  moment  he  was 
in  a  part  of  the  room  where  Mr.  Falkland  was  standing, 
and  with  one  blow  of  his  muscular  arm  levelled  him  with 
the  earth.  The  blow,  however,  was  not  stunning,  and  Mr. 
Falkland  rose  again  immediately.  It  is  obvious  to  perceive 
how  unequal  he  must  have  been  in  this  species  of  contest. 
He  was  scarcely  risen,  before  Mr.  Tyrrel  repeated  his  blow. 
Mr.  Falkland  was  now  upon  his  guard,  and  did  not  fall. 
But  the  blows  of  his  adversary  were   redoubled  with   a 


120  CALEB  WILLIAMS 

rapidity  difficult  to  conceive,  and  Mr.  Falkland  was  once 
again  brought  to  the  earth.  In  this  situation  Mr.  Tyrrel 
kicked  his  prostrate  enemy,  and  stooped  apparently  with 
the  intention  of  dragging  him  along  the  floor.  All  this 
passed  in  a  moment,  and  the  gentlemen  present  had  not 
time  to  recover  from  their  surprise.  They  now  interfered, 
and  Mr.  Tyrrel  once  more  quitted  the  apartment. 

It  is  difficult  to  conceive  any  event  more  terrible  to  the 
individual  upon  whom  it  fell  than  the  treatment  which  Mr. 
Falkland  in  this  instance  experienced.  Every  passion  of 
his  life  was  calculated  to  make  him  feel  it  more  acutely. 
Ke  had  repeatedly  exerted  an  uncommon  energy  and  pru- 
dence, to  prevent  the  misunderstanding  between  Mr.  Tyr- 
rel and  himself  from  proceeding  to  extremities;  but  in  vain! 
It  was  closed  with  a  catastrophe,  exceeding  all  that  he  had 
feared,  or  that  the  most  penetrating  foresight  could  have 
suggested.  Xp  Mr.  Falkland  disgrace  ™^cj  mnrgP  t^an 
slight 


death.  The  slightest  breath  of  dishonour  would  have  stung 
him  to  the  very  soul.  What  must  it  have  been  with  this 
complication  of  ignominy,  base,  humiliating,  and  public? 
Could  Mr.  Tyrrel  have  understood  the  evil  he  inflicted, 
even  he,  under  all  his  circumstances  of  provocation,  could 
scarcely  have  peipetrated  it.  Mr.  Falkland's  mind  was 
full  of  uproar  like  the  war  of  contending  elements,  and  of 
such  suffering  as  casts  contempt  on  the  refinements  of  in- 
ventive cruelty.  He  wished  for  annihilation,  to  lie  down 
in  eternal  oblivion,  in  an  insensibility,  which,  compared 
with  what  he  experienced,  was  scarcely  less  enviable  than 
beatitude  itself.  Horror,  detestation,  revenge,  inexpressible 
longings  to  shake  off  the  evil,  and  a  persuasion  that  in  this 
case  all  effort  was  powerless,  filled  his  soul  even  to  bursting. 
One  other  event  closed  the  transactions  of  this  memorable 
evening.  Mr.  Falkland  was  baffled  of  the  vengeance  that 
yet  remained  to  him.  Mr.  Tyrrel  was  found  by  some  of 
the  company  dead  in  the  street,  having  been  murdered  at  the 
distance  of  a  few  yards  from  the  assembly  house. 


CHAPTER  TWELVE 

I  SHALL  endeavour  to  state  the  remainder  of  this  nar- 
rative in  the  words  of  Mr.  Collins.  The  reader  has 
already  had  occasion  to  perceive  that  Mr.  Collins  was 
a  man  of  no  vulgar  order;  and  his  reflections  on  the  subject 
were  uncommonly  judicious. 

"This  day  was  the  crisis  of  Mr.  Falkland's  history. 
From  hence  took  its  beginning  that  gloomy  and  unsociable 
melancholy,  of  which  he  has  since  been  the  victim.  No 
two  characters  can  be  in  certain  respects  more  strongly  \$ 
contrasted,  than  the  Mr.  Falkland  of  a  date  prior  and  sub-^ 
sequent  to  these"  BVWiLs.  IUllMlo  he1  had  oeen  attended 
b^d  fuitum  pupctually  prosperous.  His  mind  was  san- 
guine; full  of  that  undoubting  confidence  in  its  own  powers 
which  prosperity  is  qualified  to  produce.  Though  the  habits 
of  his  life  were  those  of  a  serious  and  sublime  visionary, 
they  were  nevertheless  full  of  cheerfulness  and  tranquillity. 
But  from  this  moment,  his  pride  and  the  lofty  adventurous-  . 
ness  of  his  spirit  were  effectually  subdued.  From  an  object 
of  envy  he  was  changed  into  an  object  of  compassion. 
Life,  which  hitherto  no  one  had  more  exquisitely  enjoyed, 
became  a  burden  to  him.  No  more  self-complacency,  no 
more  rapture,  no  more  self-approving  and  heart-transport- 
ing benevolence!  He  who  had  lived  beyond  any  man  upon 
the  grand  and  animating  reveries  of  the  imagination,  seemed 
now  to  have  no  visions  but  of  anguish  and  despair.  His 
case  was  peculiarly  worthy  of  sympathy,  since  no  doubt, 
if  rectitude  and  purity  of  disposition  could  give  a  title  to 
happiness,  few  men  could  exhibit  a  more  consistent  and 
powerful  claim  than  Mr.  Falkland. 

"He  was  too  deeply  pervaded  with  the  idle  and  grmmd- 
less  romances  of  chivalry  ever  to  forget  the  situation,  hu- 
121 


122  ADVENTURES  OF 

miliating  and  dishonourable  according  to  his  ideas,  in  which 
he  had  been  placed  upon  this  occasion.  There  is  a  mys- 
terious sort  of  divinity  annexed  to  the  person  of  a  true 
knight,  that  makes  any  species  of  brute  violence  committed 
upon  it  indelible  and  immortal.  Tn  Kp  fr^^ir^  flpya, 
cuffed,  kicked,  dragged  along  the  floor]  SarrpH  fTpavpr^ 
the  memory  ol  such  a  Lealllient  was1  iiutto  be  endured!  No 
future  lustration  could  ever  remove  the  stain:  and,  what 
was  perhaps  still  worse  in  the  present  case,  the  offender 
having  ceased  to  exist,  the  lustration  which  the  laws  of 
knight-errantry  prescribe  was  rendered  impossible. 

"In  some  future  period  of  human  improvement,  it  is 
probable  that  that  calamity  will  be  in  a  manner  unintelli- 
gible, which  in  the  present  instance  contributed  to  tarnish 
and  wither  the  excellence  of  one  of  the  most  elevated  and 
amiable  of  human  minds.  If  Mr.  Falkland  had  reflected 
with  perfect  accuracy  upon  the  case,  he  would  probably 
have  been  able  to  look  down  with  indifference  upon  a  wound 
which,  as  it  was,  pierced  to  his  very  vitals.  How  much 
more  dignity,  than  in  the  modern  duellist,  do  we  find  in 
Themistocles,  the  most  gallant  of  the  Greeks;  who,  when 
Eurybiades,  his  commander-in-chief,  in  answer  to  some  of 
his  remonstrances,  lifted  his  cane  over  him  with  a  menacing 
air,  accosted  him  in  that  noble  apostrophe,  'Strike,  but 
hear!' 

"How  would  a  man  of  true  discernment  in  such  a  case 
reply  to  his  brutal  assailant?  'I  make  it  my  boast  that  I 
can  endure  calamity  and  pain ;  shall  I  not  be  able  to  endure 
the  trifling  inconvenience  that  your  folly  can  inflict  upon 
me?  Perhaps  a  human  being  would  be  more  accomplished, 
if  he  understood  the  science  of  personal  defence;  but  how 
few  would  be  the  occasions  upon  which  he  would  be  called 
to  exert  it?  How  few  persons  would  he  encounter  so  unjust 
and  injurious  as  you,  if  his  own  conduct  were  directed  by 
the  principles  of  reason  and  benevolence?  Besides,  how 
narrow  would  be  the  use  of  this  science  when  acquired?  It 
will   scarcely  put  the   man   of   delicate  make  and  petty 


CALEB  WILLIAMS 


123 


stature  upon  a  level  with  the  athletic  pugilist;  and  if  it 
did  in  some  measure  secure  me  against  the  malice  of  a 
single  adversary,  still  my  person  and  my  life,  so  far  as  mere 
force  is  concerned,  would  always  be  at  the  mercy  of  two. 
Further  than  immediate  defence  against  actual  violence,  it 
could  never  be  of  use  to  me.  The  man  who  can  deliberately 
meet  his  adversary  for  the  purpose  of  exposing  the  person 
of  one  or  both  of  them  to  injury  tramples  upon  every  prin- 
ciple of  reason  and  equity.  Duelling  is  the  vilest_  of  all 
effotjsm.  treating  the  public,  who 
ana  exertions, 


powers 

of  ratllBl  '9,T1  "UMelligible  chimera  I  annex  to  myself,  as  if 
it  were  entitled  to  my  exclusive  attention.  I  am  unable 
$  cope"^teh  you:  what  then?  CanJ;hat  riVrnrr^tanrpjj|*- 
honourmej/  No;  I  can  only  be  dishonoured  by  perpe- 
trating an  unjust  action.  My  honour  is  in  my  own  keep- 
ing, beyond  the  reach  of  all  mankind.  Strike!  I  am 
passive.  No  injury  that  you  can  inflict  shall  provoke  me  to 
expose  you  or  myself  to  unnecessary  evil.  I  refuse  that; 
but  I  am  not  therefore  pusillanimous:  when  I  refuse  any 
danger  or  suffering  by  wmcTTT3ie~general  good  may  be  pro- 
moted, then  brand  me  for  a  coward!' 

"These  reasonings,  however  simple  and  irresistible  they 
must  be  found  by  a  dispassionate  inquirer,  are  little  re- 
flected on  by  the  world  at  large,  and  were  most  of  all  un- 
congenial to  the  prejudices  of  Mr.  Falkland. 

"But  the  public  disgrace  and  chastisement  that  had  been 
imposed  upon  him,  intolerable  as  they  were  to  be  recollected, 
were  not  the  whole  of  the  mischief  that  redoundecpto  our 
unfortunate  patron  from  the  transactions  of  that  day.  It 
was  presently  whispered  that  he  was  no  other  than  the 
murderer  of  his  antagonist.  This  rumour  was  of  too  much 
importance  to  the  very  continuance  of  his  life,  to  justify  its 
being  concealed  from  him.  He  heard  it  with  inexpressible 
astonishment  and  horror;  it  formed  a  dreadful  addition  to 
the  load  of  intellectual  anguish  that  already  oppressed  him 
No  man  had  ever  held  his  reputation  more  dear  than  Mr 


to      k 

im-  & 


124  ADVENTURES  OF 

Falkland;  and  now,  in  one  day,  he  was  fallen  under  the 
mosJ^^exqttSrte  calamities,  a  complicated  personal  insult, 
and  the  imputation  of  the  foulest  of  crimes.  He  might 
have  fled ;  for  no  one  was  forward  to  proceed  against  a  man 
so  adored  as  Mr.  Falkland,  or  in  revenge  of  one  so  univer- 
sally execrated  as  Mr.  Tyrrel.  But  flight  he  disdained.  In 
the  meantime  the  affair  was  of  the  most  serious  magnitude, 
and  the  rumour  unchecked  seemed  daily  to  increase  in 
strength.  Mr.  Falkland  appeared  sometimes  inclined  to 
adopt  such  steps  as  might  have  been  best  calculated  to 
bring  the  imputation  to  a  speedy  trial.  But  he  probably 
feared,  by  too  direct  an  appeal  to  judicature,  to  render  more 
precise  an  imputation,  the  memory  of  which  he  deprecated; 
at  the  same  time  that  he  was  sufficiently  willing  to  meet 
the  severest  scrutiny,  and,  if  he  could  not  hope  to  have  it 
forgotten  that  he  had  ever  been  accused,  to  prove  in  the 
most  satisfactory  manner  that  the  accusation  was  unjust. 

"The  neighbouring  magistrates  at  length  conceived  it 
necessary  to  take  some  steps  upon  the  subject.  Without 
causing  Mr.  Falkland  to  be  apprehended,  they  sent  to  desire 
<C^Ji£jftseTitcr  appe^Fbrf©f|«-4h£ta-«*i,wier  uf'their  meetings.  The 
proceeding  being  thus  opened,  Mr.  Falkland  expressed  his 
hope  that,  if  the  business  were  likely  to  stop  there,  their  in- 
vestigation might  at  least  be  rendered  as  solemn  as  possible. 
The  meeting  was  numerous ;  every  person  of  a  respectable 
class  in  society  was  admitted  to  be  an  /auditor ;  the  whole 
town,  one  of  the  most  considerable  in  the  county,  was 
apprized  of  the  nature  of  the  business.  Few  trials,  invested 
with  all  the  forms  of  judgment,  have  excited  so  general  an 
interest.  A  trial,  under  the  present  circumstances,  was 
scarcely  attainable;  and  it  seemed  to  be  the  wish  both  of 
principal  and  umpires,  to  give  to  this  transaction  all  the 
momentary  notoriety  and  decisiveness  of  a  trial. 

"The  magistrates  investigated  the  particulars  of  the  story. 
Mr.  Falkland,  it  appeared,  had  left  the  rooms  immediately 
after  his  assailant;  and  though  he  had  been  attended  by 
one  or  two  of  the  gentlemen  to  his  inn,  it  was  proved  that 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  125 

he  had  left  them  upon  some  slight  occasion  as  soon  as  he 
arrived  at  it;  and  that,  when  they  inquired  for  him  of  the 
waiters,  he  had  already  mounted  his  horse  and  ridden  home. 
"By  the  nature  of  the  case,  no  particular  facts  could 
be  stated  in  balance  against  these.  As  soon  as  they  had 
been  sufficiently  detailed,  Mr.  Falkland  therefore  proceeded 
to  his  defence.  Several  copies  of  his  defence  were  made, 
and  Mr.  Falkland  seemed,  for  a  short  time,  to  have  had  the 
idea  of  sending  it  to  the  press,  though,  for  some  reason  or 
other,  he  afterward  suppressed  it.  I  have  one  of  the  copies 
in  my  possession,  and  I  will  read  it  to  you." 

Saying  this,  Mr.  Collins  rose,  and  took  it  from  a  private 
drawer  in  his  escritoire.  During  this  action  he  appeared 
to  recollect  himselfT  He  did  not,  in  the  strict  sense  of  the 
word,  hesitate ;  but  he  was  prompted  to  make  some  apology 
for  what  he  was  doing. 

"You  seem  never  to  have  heard  of  this  memorable  transac- 
tion; and,  indeed,  that  is  little  to  be  wondered  at,  since 
the  good-nature  of  the  world  is  interested  in  suppressing 
it,  and  it  is  deemed  a  disgrace  to  a  man  to  have  defended 
himself  from  a  criminal  imputation,  though  with  circum- 
stances the  most  satisfactory  and  honourable.     It  may  be 
supposed  that  this  suppression  is  particularly  acceptable  to 
Mr.  Falkland;  and  I  should  not  have  acted  in  contradiction 
to  his  modes  of  thinking  in  communicating  the  story  to  you, 
had  there  not  been  circumstances  of  peculiar  urgency  that 
seemed  to  render  the  communication  desirable."     Saying 
this,  he  proceeded  to  read  from  the  paper  in  his  hand. 
"'Gentlemen: 
"  'I  stand  here  accused  of  a  crime,  the  most  black  thatf \ 
any  human  creature  is  capable  of  perpetrating.    I  am  inno-  >j- 
cent.    I  have  no  fear  that  I  shall  fail  to  make  every  person  in 
this  company  acknowledge  my  innocence.     In  the  mean- 
time, what  must  be  my  feelings?     Conscious  as  I  am  of 
deserving  approbation  and  not  censure,  of  having  passed  my 
life  in  acts  of  justice  and  philanthropy,  can  anything  be 
more  deplorable  than  for  me  to  answer  to  a  charge  of  mur- 


126  ADVENTURES  OF 

der?  So  wretched  is  my  situation,  that  I  cannot  accept  your 
gratuitous  acquittal,  if  you  should  be  disposed  to  bestow  it. 
I  must  answer  to  an  imputation,  the  very  thought  of  which 
is  ten  thousand  times  worse  to  me  than  death.  I  must  exert 
the  whole  energy  of  my  mind,  to  prevent  my  being  ranked 
with  the  vilest  of  men. 

"  'Gentlemen,  this  is  a  situation  in  which  a  man  may  be 
allowed  to  boast.  Accursed  situation!  No  man  need  envy 
me  the  vile  and  polluted  triumph  I  am  now  to  gain!  I  have 
called  no  witnesses  to  my  character.  Great  God!  what  sort 
of  character  is  that  which  must  be  supported  by  witnesses? 
But,  if  I  must  speak,  look  round  the  company,  ask  of  every 
one  present,  inquire  of  your  own  hearts!  Not  one  word  of 
reproach  was  ever  whispered  against  me.  I  do  not  hesitate 
to  call  upon  those  who  have  known  me  most,  to  afford  me 
the  most  honourable  testimony. 

"  'My  life  has  been  spent  in  the  keenest  and  most  unin- 
termitted  sensibility  to  reputation.  I  am  also  indifferent  as 
to  what  shall  be  the  event  of  this  day.  I  would  not  open  my 
mouth  upon  the  occasion,  if  my  life  were  the  only  thing  that 
was  at  stake.  It  is  not  in  the  power  of  your  decision  to 
restore  to  me  my  unblemished  reputation,  to  obliterate  the 
disgrace  I  have  suffered,  or  to  prevent  it  from  being  re- 
membered that  I  have  been  brought  to  examination  upon  a 
charge  of  murder.  Your  decision  can  never  have  the  efficacy 
to  prevent  the  miserable  remains  of  my  existence  from  be- 
ing the  most  intolerable  of  all  burthens. 

"  'I  am  accused  of  having  committed  murder  upon  the 
body  of  Barnabas  Tyrrel.  I  would  most  joyfully  have  given 
every  farthing  I  possess,  and  devoted  myself  to  perpetual 
beggary,  to  have  preserved  his  life.  His  life  was  precious 
to  me,  beyond  that  of  all  mankind.  In  my  opinion,  the 
J  /greatest  injustice  committed  by  his  unknown  assassin  was 
\that  of  defrauding  me  of  my  just  revenge.  I  confess  that  I 
would  have  called  him  out  to  the  field,  and  that  our  en- 
counter should  not  have  been  terminated  but  by  the  death 
of  one  or  both  of  us.    This  would  have  been  a  pitiful  and 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  127 

inadequate  compensation  for  his  unparalleled  insult,  but  it 
was  all  that  remained. 

"  'I  ask  for  no  pity,  but  I  must  openly  declare  that  never 
was  any  misfortune  so  horrible  as  mine.  I  would  willingly 
have  taken  refuge  from  the  recollection  of  that  night  in  a 
voluntary  death.  Life  was  now  stripped  of  all  those  recom- 
mendations for  the  sake  of  which  it  was  dear  to  me.  But 
even  this  consolation  is  denied  me.  I  am  compelled  to  drag 
for  ever  the  intolerable  load  of  existence,  upon  penalty,  if  at 
any  period,  however  remote,  I  shake  it  off,  of  having  that 
impatience  regarded  as  confirming  a  charge  of  murder. 
Gentlemen,  if  by  your  decision  you  could  take  away  my 
life,  without  that  act  being  connected  with  my  disgrace,  I 
would  bless  the  cord  that  stopped  the  breath  of  my  existence 
for  ever. 

^JilYpu  all  know  how  easily  I  might  have  fled  from  this 
(purgation)   If  I  had  been  guilty,  should  I  not  have  embraced    ty 
tEe~b^portunity?    But,  as  it  was,  I  could  not.    Reputation^  f 
has  been^the  ido^  {he  jVwpI  nf  r^y  life.    I_cjuld  nei'eT  lia've  j 
"*'15t5ffTeK)  think  that  a  human  creature,  in  the  remotest  part  \ 
of  the  globe,  should  believe  that  I  was  a  criminal.     Alas!    \ 
what  a  deity  it  is  that  I  have  chosen  for  my  worship!     I       ^ 
have  entailed  upon  myself  everlasting  agony  and  despair! 

"  'I  have  but  one  word  to  add.  Gentlemen,  I  charge  you 
to  do  me  the  imperfect  justice  that  is  in  your  power!  My 
life  is  a  worthless  thing.  _But  my  ^nnnyr|  thp  pmpty  remains 
jif  honour  T  have  now  to  boastr  is  inj^oiu^JuHgment.  and 
you  will  each  of  you,  from  this  day,  have  imposet 
selves  the  task  of  its  vindicators.  It  is  little  that  you  can 
do  for  me;  but  it  is  not  less  your  duty  to  do  that  little. 
May  that  God  who  is  the  fountain  of  honour  and  good 
prosper  and  protect  you!  The  man  who  now  stands  before 
you  is  devoted  to  perpetual  barrenness  and  blast!  He  has 
nothing  to  hope  for  beyond  the  feeble  consolation  of  this 
day!' 

"You  will  easily  imagine  that  Mr.  Falkland  was  dis- 
charged with  every  circumstance  of  credit.    Nothing  is  more 


128  ADVENTURES  OF 

to  be  deplored  in  human  institutions,  than  that  the  ideas  of 
mankind  should  have  annexed  a  sentiment  of  disgrace  to  a 
purgation  thus  satisfactory  and  decisive.  No  one  entertained 
the  shadow  of  a  doubt  upon  the  subject,  and  yet  a  mere 
concurrence  of  circumstances  made  it  necessary  that  the  best 
of  men  should  be  publicly  put  on  his  defence,  as  if  really 
under  suspicion  of  an  atrocious  crime.  It  may  be  granted, 
indeed,  that  Mr.  Falkland  had  his  faults,  but  those  very 
faults  placed  him  at  a  still  farther  distance  from  the  crimi- 
nality in  question.  He  was  the  fool  of  honour  and  fame:  a 
man  whom,  in  the  pursuit  of  reputation,  nothing  ""could 
divert;  who  would  have  purchased  the  character  of  a  true, 
"gallant, "aM~undaun ted hero,  at  the  expense  of  worlds,  and 
who  thought  every  calamity  nominal  but  a  stain  upon  his 
honour.  How  atrociously  absurd  to  suppose  any  motive 
capable  of  inducing  such  a  man  to  play  the  part  of  a 
lurking  assassin!  How  unfeeling  to  oblige  him  to  defend 
himself  from  such  an  imputation!  Did  any  man,  and, 
least  of  all,  a  man  of  the  purest  honour,  ever  pass  in  a 
moment  from  a  life  unstained  by  a  single  act  of  injury,  to  the 
consummation  of  human  depravity? 

"When  the  decision  of  the  magistrates  was  declared,  a 
general  murmur  of  applause  and  involuntary  transport  burst 
forth  from  every  one  present.  It  was  at  first  low,  and 
gradually  became  louder.  As  it  was  the  expression  of 
rapturous  delight,  and  an  emotion  disinterested  and  divine, 
so  there  was  an  indescribable  something  in  the  very  sound, 
that  carried  it  home  to  the  heart,  and  convinced  every 
spectator  that  there  was  no  merely  personal  pleasure  which 
ever  existed  that  would  not  be  foolish  and  feeble  in  the  com- 
parison. Every  one  strove  who  should  most  express  his 
esteem  of  the  amiable  accused.  Mr.  Falkland  was  no 
sooner  withdrawn  than  the  gentlemen  present  determined  to 
give  a  still  further  sanction  to  the  business,  by  their  con- 
gratulations. They  immediately  named  a  deputation  to  wait 
upon  him  for  that  purpose.  Every  one  concurred  to  assist 
the  general  sentiment.    It  was  a  sort  of  sympathetic  feeling 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  129 

that  took  hold  upon  all  ranks  and  degrees.  The  multitude 
recetvedJiim^with  huzzas ;  they  took  his  horses  from  his  car- 
riage, dragged  him  along  in  triumph,  and  attended  him  many 
miles  on  his  return  to  his  own  habitation.  It  seemed  as  if 
a  public  examination  upon  a  criminal  charge,  which  had 
hitherto  been  considered  in  every  event  as  a  brand  of  dis- 
grace, was  converted,  in  the  present  instance,  into  an  occa- 
sion of  enthusiastic  adoration  and  unexampled  honour. 

"Nothing  could  reach  the  heart  of  Mr.  Falkland.     He 
was  not  insensible  to  the  general  kindness  and "exel'tlOliyj^ 
but  it  was  too  evident  that  the  melancholy  that  had  taken\ 
hold  of  his  mind  was  invincible.  >*A 

"It  was  only  a  few  weeks  after  rhk  m.ejnnrphlf,  grene  that 
the  real  murderer  was  dis^pvefecT.  Every  part  oftrnssstory 
was  extraordinary.  Tfofreal  murderer  was  Hawkins.  ^Ie 
was  found  with  his  son,  under  a  feigned  name,  at  a  village 
about  thirty  miles  distant,  in  want  of  all  the  necessaries  of 
life.  He  had  lived  there  from  the  period  of  his  flight,  in  so 
private  a  manner  that  all  the  inquiries  that  had  been  set  on 
foot  by  the  benevolence  of  Mr.  Falkland  or  the  insatiable 
malice  of  Mr.  Tyrrel,  had  been  insufficient  to  discover  him. 
The  first  thing  that  had  led  to  the  detection  was  a  parcel  of 
clothes  covered  with  blood  that  were  found  in  a  ditch,  and 
that,  when  drawn  out,  were  known  by  the  people  of  the  vil- 
lage to  belong  to  this  man.  The  murder  of  Mr.  Tyrrel  was 
not  a  circumstance  that  could  be  unknown,  and  suspicion 
was  immediately  roused.  A  diligent  search  being  made,  the 
rusty  handle,  with  part  of  the  blade  of  a  knife,  was  found 
thrown  in  a  corner  of  his  lodging,  which,  being  applied  to  a 
piece  of  the  point  of  a  knife  that  had  been  broken  in  the 
wound,  appeared  exactly  to  correspond.  Upon  further  in- 
quiry, two  rustics,  who  had  been  accidentally  on  the  spot, 
remembered  to  have  seen  Hawkins  and  his  son  in  the  town 
that  very  evening,  and  to  have  called  after  them,  and  re- 
ceived no  answer,  though  they  were  sure  of  their  persons. 
Upon  this  accumulated  evidence  both  Hawkins  and  his  son^v^, 
were  tried,  condemned,  and  afterward  executed.     In  the 


130  ADVENTURES  OF 

interval  between  the  sentence  and  execution  Hawkins  con- 
fessed his  guilt,  with  many  marks  of  compunction;  though 
there  are  persons  by  whom  this  is  denied;  but  I  have  taken 
some  pains  to  inquire  into  the  fact,  and  am  persuaded  that 
their  disbelief  is  precipitate  and  groundless. 

"The  cruel  injustice  that  this  man  had  suffered  from  his 
village-tyrant  was  not  forgotten  upon  the  present  occasion. 
It  was  by  a  strange  fatality  that  the  barbarous  proceedings 

n£J^J     Tyrrp1    <a^™pH    npypr    tq   fall    ^ojt    QJ   *lipir    rnmplp- 

tion-  and  even  his  death  served  eventually  to  rnnfiiiimrnrtr 

jK?  miu-.if  j   ,iun 'in    iii,   a ^rinim  stance  which1  if  it^ 

could  ha^e,LQm£^tQ-  his  knowledge,  would  perhaps  have  in 

Q2,13^~^-P^1?rP  rrmgn1prl  ^'iT1  for  his  untimely,  .end.  This 
"poor  Hawkins  was  surely  entitled  to  some  pity,  since  his 
being  finally  urged  to  desperation,  and  brought,  together 
with  his  son,  to  an  ignominious  fate,  was  originally  owing 
to  the  sturdiness  of  his  virtue  and  independence.  But  the 
compassion  of  the  public  was  in  a  great  measure  shut  against 
him,  as  they  thought  it  a  piece  of  barbarous  and  unpardon- 
able unselfishness,  that  he  had  not  rather  come  boldly  for- 
ward to  meet  the  consequences  of  his  own  conduct  than 
suffer  a  man  of  so  much  public  worth  as  Mr.  Falkland,  and 
who  had  been  so  desirous  of  doing  him  good,  to  be  exposed 
to  the  risk  of  being  tried  for  a  murder  that  he  had  com- 
mitted. 

"From  this  time  to  the  present  Mr.  Falkland  has  been 
nearly  such  as  you  at  present  see  him.  Though  it  be  several 
years  since  these  transactions,  the  impression  they  made  is 
for  ever  fresh  in  the  mind  of  our  unfortunate  patron. 
From  thenceforward  his  habits  became  totally  different. 
He  had  before  been  fond  of  public  scenes,  and  acting  a 
part  in  the  midst  of  the  people  among  whom  he  immediately 
resided.  He  now  made  himself  a  rigid  recluse.  He  had  no 
associates,  no  friends.  Inconsolable  himself,  he  yet  wished 
to  treat  others  with  kindness.  There  was  a  solemn  sadness 
in  his  manner,  attended  with  the  most  perfect  gentleness 
and  humanity.    Everybody  respects  him,  for  his  benevolence 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  131 

is  unalterable;  but  there  is  a  stately  coldness  and  reserve  in 
his  behaviour,  which  makes  it  difficult  for  those  about  him  to 
regard  him  with  the  familiarity  of  affection.  These  symp- 
toms are  uninterrupted,  except  at  certain  times  when  his 
sufferings  become  intolerable,  and  he  displays  the  marks  of  a 
furious  insanity.  At  those  times  his  language  is  fearful  and 
mysterious,  and  he  seems  to  figure  to  himself  by  turns  every 
sort  of  persecution  and  alarm  which  may  be  supposed  to 
attend  upon  an  accusation  of  murder.  But,  sensible  of  his 
own  weakness,  he  is  anxious  at  such  times  to  withdraw  into 
solitude:  and  his  domestics  in  general  know  nothing  of  him, 
but  the  uncommunicative  and  haughty,  but  mild,  dejection 
that  accompanies  everything  he  does." 


CHAPTER  THIRTEEN 

I  HAVE  stated  the  narrative  of  Mr.  Collins,  interspersed 
with  such  other  information  as  I  was  able  to  collect, 
with  all  the  exactness  that  my  memory,  assisted  by  cer- 
tain memorandums  I  made  at  the  time,  will  afford.  I  do 
not  pretend  to  warrant  the  authenticity  of  any  part  of  these 
memoirs,  except  so  much  as  fell  under  my  own  knowledge, 
and  that  part  shall  be  given  with  the  same  simplicity  and 
accuracy  that  I  would  observe  towards  a  court  which  was  to 
decide  in  the  last  resort  upon  everything  dear  to  me.  The 
same  scrupulous  fidelity  restrains  me  from  altering  the  man- 
ner of  Mr.  Collins's  narrative  to  adapt  it  to  the  precepts  of 
my  own  taste;  and  it  will  soon  be  perceived  how  essential 
that  narrative  is  to  the  elucidation  of  my  history. 

The  intention  of  my  friend  in  this  communication  was 
to  give  me  ease;  but  he  in  reality  added  to  my  embarrass- 
ment. Hitherto  I  had  had  no  intercourse  with  the  world 
and  its  passions ;  and,  though  I  was  not  totally  unacquainted 
with  them  as  they  appear  in  books,  this  proved  of  little 
service  to  me  when  I  came  to  witness  them  myself.  The 
case  seemed  entirely  altered,  when  the  subject  of  those 
passions  was  continually  before  my  eyes,  and  the  events 
had  happened  but  the  other  day,  as  it  were,  in  the  very 
neighbourhood  where  I  lived.  There  was  a  connexion  and 
progress  in  this  narrative,  which  made  it  altogether  unlike 
the  little  village  incidents  I  had  hitherto  known.  My 
feelings  were  successively  interested  for  the  different  per- 
sons that  were  brought  upon  the  scene.  My  veneration  was 
excited  for  Mr.  Clare,  and  my  applause  for  the  intrepidity 
of  Mrs.  Hammond.  I  was  astonished  that  any  human  crea- 
ture should  be  so  shockingly  perverted  as  Mr.  Tyrrel.  I 
paid  the  tribute  of  my  tears  to  the  memory  of  the  artless 

132 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  133 

Miss  Melville.  I  found  a  thousand  fresh  reasons  to  admire 
and  love  Mr.  Falkland. 

At  present  I  was  satisfied  with  thus  considering  every 
incident  in  its  obvious  sense.  But  the  story  I  had  heard 
was  for  ever  in  my  thoughts,  and  I  was  peculiarly  in- 
terested to  comprehend  its  full  import.  I  turned  it  a 
thousand  ways,  and  examined  it  in  every  point  of  view. 
In  the  original  communication  it  appeared  sufficiently  dis- 
tinct and  satisfactory;  but  as  I  brooded  over  it,  it  gradually 
became  mysterious.  There  was  something  strange  in  the 
character  of  Hawkins.  So  firm,  so  sturdily  honest  and  / 
just,  as  he  appeared  at  first;  all  at  once  to  become  a  mur-^' 
derer!  His  first  behaviour  under  the  prosecution,  how 
accurately  was  it  calculated  to  prepossess  one  in  his  favour ! 
To  be  sure,  if  he  were  guilty,  it  was  unpardonable  in  him 
to  permit  a  man  of  so  much  dignity  and  worth  as  Mr.  Falk- 
land to  suffer  under  the  imputation  of  his  crime!  And 
yet  I  could  not  help  bitterly  compassionating  the  honest 
fellow,  brought  to  the  gallows,  as  he  was,  strictly  speak- 
ing, by  the  machinations  of  that  devil  incarnate,  Mr.  Tyrrel. 
His  son,  too,  that  son  for  whom  he  voluntarily  sacrificed 
his  all,  to  die  with  him  at  the  same  tree;  surely  never  was  a 
story  more  affecting! 

Was  it  possible,  after  all,  that  Mr.  Falkland  should  be 
the  murderer?  The  reader  will  scarcely  believe,  that  the 
idea  suggested  itself  to  my  mind  that  I  would  ask  him. 
It  was  but  a  passing  thought;  but  it  serves  to  mark  the 
simplicity  of  my  character.  Then  I  recollected  the  virtues 
of  my  master,  almost  too  sublime  for  human  nature;  I 
thought  of  his  sufferings  so  unexampled,  so  unmerited;  and 
chid  myself  for  the  suspicion.  The  dying  confession  of 
Hawkins  recurred  to  my  mind ;  anHTfplf;  ffrai.  thnia^  was  no 
longer  a  possibility^j^jiM^  yet  what  was  the 

meaning  of  a^s^rrFalkland's^  agonies  and  terrors?  In 
fine,  the  idea  having  once  occurreTTo1 'Tliy  mlfSd,  it  was 
fixed  there  for  ever.  My  thoughts  fluctuated  from  con- 
jecture to  conjecture,  but  this  was  the  centre  about  which 


i34  ADVENTURES  OF 

they  revolved.     I  determined  to  place  myself  as  a  watch 
upon  my  patron. 

The  instant  I  had  chosen  this  employment  for  myself,  I 
found  a  strange  sort  of  pleasure  in  it.  To  do  what  is  for- 
bidden always  has  its  charms,  because  we  have  an  indis- 
tinct apprehension  of  something  arbitrary  and  tyrannical 
in  the  prohibition.  To  be  a  spy  upon  Mr.  Falkland!  That 
there  was  danger  in  the  employment  served  to  give  an  allur- 
ing pungency^  to  the  choice.  I  remembered  the  stern 
reprimand  I  had  received,  and  his  terrible  looks;  and  the 
recollection  gave  a  kind  of  tingling  sensation,  not  alto- 
gether unallied  to  enjoyment.  The  further  I  advanced, 
the  more  the  sensation  was  irresistible.  I  seemed  to  myself 
perpetually  upon  the  brink  of  being  countermined,  and 
perpetually  roused  to  guard  my  designs.  The  more  im- 
penetrable Mr.  Falkland  was  determined  to  be,  the  more 
uncontrollable  was  my  curiosity.  Through  the  whole,  my 
alarm  and  apprehension  of  personal  danger  had  a  large  mix- 
ture of  frankness  and  simplicity,  conscious  of  meaning  no 
ill,,  that  made  me  continually  ready  to  say  everything 
that  was  upon  my  mind,  and  would  not  suffer  me  to  believe 
that,  when  things  were  brought  to  the  test,  any  one  could 
be  seriously  angry  with  me. 

These  reflections  led  gradually  to  a  new  state  of  my 
mind.  When  I  had  first  removed  into  Mr.  Falkland's 
family,  the  novelty  of  the  scene  rendered  me  cautious  and 
reserved.  The  distant  and  solemn  manners  of  my  master 
seemed  to  have  annihilated  my  constitutional  gayety.  But 
the  novelty  by  degrees  wore  off,  and  my  constraint  in  the 
same  degree  diminished.  The  story  I  had  now  heard,  and 
the  curiosity  it  excited,  restored  to  me  activity,  eagerness, 
and  courage.  I  had  always  had  a  propensity  to  communi- 
cate my  thoughts;  my  age  was,  of  course,  inclined  to 
talkativeness;  and  I  ventured  occasionally,  in  a  sort  of 
hesitating  way,  as  if  questioning  whether  such  a  conduct 
might  be  allowed,  to  express  my  sentiments  as  they  arose, 
in  the  presence  of  Mr.  Falkland. 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  135 

The  first  time  I  did  so,  he  looked  at  me  with  an  air  of 
surprise,  made  me  no  answer,  and  presently  took  occasion 
to  leave  me.  The  experiment  was  soon  after  repeated. 
My  master  seemed  half-inclined  to  encourage  me,  and  yet 
doubtful  whether  he  might  venture.  He  had  long  been  a 
stranger  to  pleasure  of  every  sort,  and  my  artless  and  un- 
taught remarks  appeared  to  promise  him  some  amusement. 
Could  an  amusement  of  this  sort  be  dangerous? 

In  this  uncertainty  he  could  not  probably  find  it  in  his 
heart  to  treat  with  severity  my  innocent  effusions.  I 
needed  but  little  encouragement;  for  the  perturbation  of 
my  mind  stood  in  want  of  this  relief.  My  simplicity,  aris- 
ing from  my  being  a  total  stranger  to  the  intercourse  of 
the  world,  was  accompanied  with  a  mind  in  some  degree 
cultivated  with  reading,  and  perhaps  not  altogether  destitute 
of  observation  and  talent.  My  remarks  were  therefore 
perpetually  unexpected,  at  one  time  implying  extreme 
ignorance,  and  at  another  some  portion  of  acuteness,  but 
at  all  times  having  an  air  of  innocence,  frankness,  and 
courage.  There  was  still  an  apparent  want  of  design  in 
the  manner,  even  after  I  was  excited  accurately  to  com- 
pare my  observations,  and  study  the  inferences  to  which 
they  led;  for  the  effect  of  old  habit  was  more  visible  than 
that  of  a  recently  conceived  purpose  which  was  yet  scarcely 
mature. 

Mr.  Falkland's  situation  was  like  that  of  a  fish  that  plays 
with  the  bait  employed  to  entrap  him.  By  my  manner  he 
was  in  a  certain  degree  encouraged  to  lay  aside  his  usual 
reserve,  and  relax  his  stateliness;  till  some  abrupt  observa- 
tion or  interrogatory  stung  him  into  recollection,  and 
brought  back  his  alarm.  Still  it  was  evident  that  he  bore 
about  him  a  secret  wound.  Whenever  the  cause  of  his  sor- 
rows was  touched,  though  in  a  manner  the  most  indirect  and 
remote,  his  countenance  altered,  his  distemper  returned,  and 
it  was  with  difficulty  that  he  could  suppress  his  emotions, 
sometimes    conquering    himself    with    painful    effort,    and 


136  ADVENTURES  OF 

sometimes  bursting  into  a  sort  of  paroxysm  of  insanity, 
and  hastening  to  bury  himself  in  solitude. 

;ances  I  too  frequently  interpreted  into 
grounds  of  suspicmn,  though  I  might  with  equal  probability 
"^^m^lj^QreJ^e^^fy  have  ascribed  them  to  the  cruel  morti- 
ficationsnenad  encountered  in  the  objects  of  his  darling 
ambition.  Mr.  Collins  had  strongly  urged  me  to  secrecy; 
and  Mr.  Falkland,  whenever  my  gesture  or  his  conscious- 
ness impressed  him  with  the  idea  of  my  knowing  more  than 
I  expressed,  looked  at  me  with  wistful  earnestness,  as 
questioning  what  was  the  degree  of  information  I  possessed, 
and  how  it  was  obtained.  But  again  at  our  next  interview 
the  simple  vivacity  of  my  manner  restored  his  tranquillity, 
obliterated  the  emotion  of  which  I  had  been  the  cause,  and 
placed  things  afresh  in  their  former  situation. 

The  longer  this  humble  familiarity  on  my  part  had  con- 
tinued, the  more  effort  it  would  require  to  suppress  it; 
and  Mr.  Falkland  was  neither  willing  to  mortify  me  by 
a  severe  prohibition  of  speech,  nor  even  perhaps  to  make 
me  of  so  much  consequence  as  that  prohibition  might  seem 
to  imply.  Though  I  was  curious,  it  must  not  be  supposed 
that  I  had  the  object  of  my  inquiry  for  ever  in  my  mind, 
or  that  my  questions  and  innuendoes  were  perpetually 
regulated  with  the  cunning  of  a  gray-headed  inquisitor. 
The  secret  wound  of  Mr.  Falkland's  mind  was  much  more 
uniformly  present  to  his  recollection  than  to  mine;  and  a 
thousand  times  he  applied  the  remarks  that  occurred  in 
conversation;  when  I  had  not  the  remotest  idea  of  such  an 
application,  till  some  singularity  in  his  manner  brought  it 
back  to  my  thoughts.  The  consciousness  of  this  morbid 
sensibility,  and  the  imagination  that  its  influence  might 
perhaps  constitute  the  whole  of  the  case,  served  probably 
to  spur  Mr.  Falkland  again  to  the  charge,  and  connect  a 
sentiment  of  shame  with  every  project  that  suggested  itself 
for  interrupting  the  freedom  of  our  intercourse. 

I  will  give  a  specimen  of  the  conversations  to  which  I 
allude;  and  as  it  shall  be  selected  from  those  which  began 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  137 

upon  topics  the  most  general  and  remote,  the  reader  will 
easily  imagine  the  disturbance  that  was  almost  daily  en- 
dured by  a  mind  so  tremblingly  alive  as  that  of  my  patron. 

"Pray,  sir,"  said  I,  one  day,  as  I  was  assisting  Mr. 
Falkland  in  arranging  some  papers,  previously  to  their 
being  transcribed  into  his  collection,  "how  came  Alexander 
of  Macedon  to  be  surnamed  the  Great?" 

"How  came  it?    Did  you  never  read  his  history?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Well,  Williams,  and  could  you  find  no  reasons  there?" 

"Why,  I  do  not  know,  sir.  I  could  find  reasons  why 
he  should  be  so  famous;  but  every  man  that  is  talked  of 
is  not  admired.  Judges  differ  about  the  merits  of  Alexander. 
Doctor  Prideaux  says  in  his  Connexions  that  he  deserves  A 
only  to  be  called  the  Great  Cut-throat;  and  the  author  of 
Tom  Jones  has  written  a  volume,  to  prove  that  he  and  all  t> 

other  conquerors  ought  to  be  classed  with  Jonathan  Wild."-^v^«^ 

Mr.  Falkland  reddened  at  these  citations.  wPP^t- 

"Accursed  blasphemy!  Did  these  authors  think  that,  by 
the  coarseness  of  their  ribaldry,  they  could  destroy  hi 
nToii.MrnpH  f(\vc^?  Are  learning,  sensibility,  and  taste  no 
securities  to  exempt  their  possessor  'from  this  vulgar  abuse? 
Did  you  ever  read,  Williams,  of  a  man  more  gallant,  gener- 
ous, and  free?  Was  ever  mortal  so  completely  the  reverse 
of  everything  engrossing  and  selfish?  He  formed  to  him- 
self a  sublime  image  of  excellence,  and  his  only  ambition 
was  to  realize  it  in  his, own  story.  Remember  his  giving 
away  everything  when  he  set  out  upon  his  grand  expedi- 
tion, professedly  reserving  for  himself  nothing  but  hope. 
Recollect  his  heroic  confidence  in  Philip  the  physician,  and 
his  entire  and  unalterable  friendship  for  Hephestion.  He 
treated  the  captive  family  of  Darius  with  the  most  cordial 
urbanity,  and  the  venerable  Sysigambis  with  all  the  tender- 
ness and  attention  of  a  son  to  his  mother.  Never  take  the 
judgment,  Williams,  upon  such  a  subject  of  a  clerical  pedant, 
or  a  Westminster  justice.  Examine  for  yourself,  and  you  will 
find  in  Alexander  a  model  of  honaux,  generosity,  and_disiii^ 


\ 


138  ADVENTURES  OF 

terestedness, — a  man  who,  for  the  cultivated  liberality  of  his 
mind,  and  the  unparalleled  grandeur  of  his  projects,  must 
|  stand  alone  the  spectacle  and  admiration  of  all  ages  of  the 
world." 

"Ah,  sir!  it  is  a  fine  thing  for  us  to  sit  here  and  compose 
is  panegyric.    But  shall  I  forget  what  a  vast  expense  was 
estowed  in  erecting  the  monument  of  his  fame?    Was  not 
e  the  common  disturber  of  mankind?    Did  not  he  overrun 
nations  that  would  never  have  heard  of  him  but  for  his  dev- 
astations?    How  many  hundred  thousands  of  lives  did  he 
sacrifice  in  his  career?    What  must  I  think  of  his  cruelties; 
a  whole  tribe  massacred  for  a  crime  committed  by  their  an- 
cestors one  hundred  and  fifty  years  before;  fifty  thousand 
sold  into  slavery;  two  thousand  crucified  for  their  gallant 
^defence  of  their  country?     Man  is  surely  a  strange  sort  of 
kreature,  who  never  praises  any  one  more  heartily  than  him 
"who   has   spread   destruction   and  ruin  over   the   face  of 
nations!" 

'The  way  of  thinking  you  express,  Williams,  is  natural 
enough,  and  I  cannot  blame  you  for  it.  But  let  me  hope 
that  you  will  become  more  liberal.  The  death  of  a  hundred 
thousand  men  is  at  first  sight  very  shocking;  but  what  in 
reality  are  a  hundred  thousand  such  men,  more  than  a  hun- 
dred thousand  sheep?  It  is  mind,  Williams,  the  generation 
of  knowledge  and  virtue,  that  we  ought  to  love.  This  was 
the  project  of  Alexander;  he  set  out  in  a  great  undertaking 
to  civilize  mankind;  he  delivered  the  vast  continent  of  Asia 
from  the  stupidity  and  degradation  of  the  Persian  mon- 
archy; and  though  he  was  cut  off  in  the  midst  of  his  career, 
we  may  easily  perceive  the  vast  effects  of  his  project. 
Grecian  literature  and  cultivation,  the  Seleucidse,  the  Anti- 
ochuses,  and  the  Ptolemies  followed,  in  nations  which  before 
had  been  sunk  to  the  condition  of  brutes.  Alexander  was  the 
builder,  as  notoriously  as  t>>p  ^frroYpri  f*f  n'ti'T  "_ 

"And  yet,  sil1, 1  Rill  al'lald  llial  the  pike  and  the  battle-axe 

jire  not  the  right  instruments  for  making  men  wise.    Suppose 

it  were  admitted  that  the  lives  of  men  were  to  be  sacrificed 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  139 

without  remorse  if  a  paramount  good  were  to  result,  it  seems  1 
to  me  as  if  murder  and  massacre  were  but  a  very  left-handed 
way  of  producing  civilization  and  love.  But  pray,  do  not 
you  think  this  great  hero  was  a  sort  of  a  madman?  What 
now  will  you  say  to  his  firing  the  palace  of  Persepolis,  his 
weeping  for  other  worlds  to  conquer,  and  his  marching  his 
whole  army  over  the  burning  sands  of  Libya,  merely  to  visit 
a  temple,  and  persuade  mankind  that  he  was  the  son  of 
Jupiter  Ammon?" 

"Alexander,  my  boy,  has  been  much  misunderstood. 
Mankind  have  revenged  themselves  upon  him  by  misrepre-  \ 
sentation,  for  having  so  far  eclipsed  the  rest  of  his  species. 
It  was  necessary  to  the  realizing  his  project,  that  he  should 
jass  for  a  god.  It  was  the  only  way  by  which  he  could  get  v 
aTfirm  hold  upon  the  veneration  of  the  stupid  and  bigoted 
Persians.  Tt  jga^his,  and  not  a  mad  vanity,  that  was  the 
source  of  his  proceeding?"" Mi(!  IlUW  amcrrlud  he  to  struggle 
with  in  this  respect,  in  the  unapprehending  obstinacy  of 
some  of  his  Macedonians?" 

"Why  then,  sir,  at  last  Alexander  did  but  employ  means 
that  all  politicians  profess  to  use,  as  well  as  he.  He  dra- 
gooned men  into  wisdom,  and  cheated  them  into  the  pursuit 
of  their  own  happiness.  But  what  is  worse,  sir,  this  Alex- 
ander, in  the  paroxysm  of  his  headlong  rage,  spared  neither 
friend  nor  foe.  You  will  not  pretend  to  justify  the  excesses 
of  his  ungovernable  passion.    It  is  impossible,  sure,  that  a. 

[ word  can  be  said  for  a  man  whom  a  momentary  provocation 

jean  hurry  into  the  commission  of  murders — " 

The  instant  1  had  uttered  BIB5S  WoTUS  1  Ml  "w Hat  it  was 
that  I  had  done.  Therewasa  magnetical  sympathy  between 
me  and  my  patron,  so  that  their  effect  was  not  sooner  pro- 
duced upon  him,  than  my  own  mind  reproached  me  with  the 
inhumanity  of  the  allusion.  Our  confusion  was  mutual. 
The  blood  forsook  at  once  the  transparent  complexion  of  Mr. 
Falkland,  and  then  rushed  back  again  with  rapidity  and 
fierceness.  I  dared  not  utter  a  word,  lest  I  should  commit  a 
new  error,  worse  than  that  into  which  I  had  just  fallen. 


140 


CALEB  WILLIAMS 


n 


After  a  short  but  severe  struggle  to  continue  the  conversa- 
tion, Mr.  Falkland  began  with  trepidation,  but  afterward 
became  calmer: — 

"You  are  not  candid, — Alexander — you  must  learn  more 
clemency — Alexander,  I  say,  does  not  deserve  this  rigour. 
Do  you  remember  his  tears,  his  remorse,  his  determined 
abstinence  from  food,  which  he  could  scarcely  be  persuaded 
to  relinquish?  Did  not  that  prove  acute  feeling  and  a 
rooted  principle  of  equity? — Well,  well,  Alexander  was  a 
true  and  judicious  lover  of  mankind,  and  his  real  merits 
have  been  little  comprehended." 

I  know  not  how  to  make  the  state  of  my  mind  at  that 
moment  accurately  understood.     When  one  idea  has  got 
possession  of  the  soul,  it  is  scarcely  possible  to  keep  it 
from  finding  its  way  to  the  lips.     ¥nmjrr\re  ynmrQttted^ 
has  a  fascinating  power,  like  that  ascrn 
the  rattlesnake,  to  draw  us  into  a  second  error.    It  depriv* 
'  us  "oTTh^^jJxaidj^mJ&d^nt:^  in  6UT  own  mrwigth,  to  which 
we  are  indebted  for  so  much  of  our  virtue.    Curiosity  is  a 
restless  propensity,  and  often  does  but  hurry  us  forward  the 
more  irresistibly,  the  greater  is  the  danger  that  attends  its 
indulgence. 

"Clitus,"  said  I,  "was  a  man  of  very  coarse  and  provoking 
manners,  was  he  not?" 

Mr.  Falkland  felt  the  full  force  of  this  appeal.  He  gave 
me  a  penetrating  look,  as  if  he  would  see  my  very  soul. 
His  eyes  were  then  in  an  instant  withdrawn.  I  could  per- 
ceive him  seized  with  a  convulsive  shuddering,  which,  though 
strongly  counteracted,  and  therefore  scarcely  visible,  had  I 
know  not  what  of  terrible  in  it.  He  left  his  employment, 
strode  about  the  room  in  anger,  his  visage  gradually  assumed 
an  expression  as  of  supernatural  barbarity,  he  quitted  the 
apartment  abruptly,  and  flung  the  door  with  a  violence  that 
seemed  to  shake  the  house. 

"Is  this,"  said  I,  "the  fruit  of  conscious  guilt,  or  of  the 
disgust  that  a  man  of  honour  conceives  at  guilt  undeservedly 
imputed?" 


CHAPTER  FOURTEEN 

THE  reader  will  feel  how  rapidly  I  was  advancing  to 
the  brink  of  the  precipice.  I  had  a  confused  ap- 
prehension of  what  I  was  doing,  but  I  could  not 
stop  myself.  "Is  it  possible/'  said  I,  "that  Mr.  Falkland, 
who  is  thus  overwhelmed  with  a  senqe-ef-the  unmer&echdis* 
honour  that  has  beeiijFa^eiieiLupon  him  in  the  -face-ol-the 
woricl,  will  long endurethe  presence  of  a  raw  and  unfriended 
youth,  who  is  perpetually  bringing  back  that  dishonour  to 
his  recollection,  and  who  seems  himself  the  most  forward 
to  entertain  the  accusation  ?" 

I  felt  indeed  that  Mr.  Falkland  would  not  hastily  incline 
to  dismiss  me,  for  the  same  reason  that  restrained  him  from 
many  other  actions,  which  might  seem  to  savour  of  a  too 
tender  and  ambiguous  sensibility.  But  this  reflection  was 
little  adapted  to  comfort  me.  That  he  should  cherish  in  his 
heart  a  growing  hatred  against  me,  and  that  he  should  think 
himself  obliged  to  retain  me  a  continual  thorn  in  his  side, 
was  an  idea  by  no  means  of  favourable  augury  to  my  future 
peace. 

It  was  some  time  after  this  that,  in  clearing  out  a  case 
of  drawers,  I  found  a  paper  that,  by  some  accident,  had 
slipped  behind  one  of  the  drawers,  and  been  overlooked.  At 
another  time,  perhaps,  my  curiosity  might  have  given  way 
to  the  laws  of  decorum,  and  I  should  have  restored  it  un- 
opened to  my  master,  its  owner.  But  my  eagerness  for  in- 
formation had  been  too  much  stimulated  by  the  preceding 
incidents,  to  allow  me  at  present  to  neglect  any  occasion  of 
obtaining  it.  The  paper  proved  to  be  a  letter  written  by  the 
elder  Hawkins,  and  from  its  contents  seemed  to  have  been 
penned  when  he  had  first  been  upon  the  point  of  abscond- 
ing from  the  persecutions  of  Mr.  Tyrrel.  It  was  as  fol- 
lows:— 

141 


142  ADVENTURES  OF 

"Honourable  Sir: 

"I  have  waited  some  time  in  daily  hope  of  your  honour's 
return  into  these  parts.  Old  Warnes  and  his  dame,  who  are 
left  to  take  care  of  your  house,  tell  me  they  cannot  say  when 
that  will  be,  nor  justly  in  what  part  of  England  you  are  at 
present.  For  my  share,  misfortune  comes  so  thick  upon 
me,  that  I  must  determine  upon  something  (that  is  for  cer- 
tain), and  out  of  hand.  Our  squire,  who  I  must  own  at 
first  used  me  kindly  enough,  though  I  am  afraid  that  was 
partly  out  of  spite  to  Squire  Underwood,  has  since  deter- 
mined to  be  the  ruin  of  me.  Sir,  I  have  been  no  craven ;  I 
fought  it  up  stoutly ;  for  after  all,  you  know,  God  bless  your 
honour!  it  is  but  a  man  to  a  man;  but  he  has  been  too 
much  for  me. 

"Perhaps  if  I  were  to  ride  over  to  the  market-town  and 
inquire  of  Munsle,  your  lawyer,  he  could  tell  me  how  to 
direct  to  you.  But  having  hoped  and  waited  o'  this  fashion, 
and  all  in  vain,  has  put  me  upon  other  thoughts.  I  was 
in  no  hurry,  sir,  to  apply  to  you;  for  I  do  not  love  to  be  a 
trouble  to  anybody.  I  kept  that  for  my  last  stake.  Well, 
sir,  and  now  that  has  failed  me  like,  I  am  ashamed,  as  it 
were,  to  have  thought  of  it.  Have  not  I,  thinks  I,  arms 
and  legs  as  well  as  other  people?  I  am  driven  out  of  house 
and  home.  Well,  and  what  then?  Sure  I  arn't  a  cabbage, 
that  if  you  pull  it  out  of  the  ground  it  must  die.  I  am 
penniless.  True;  and  how  many  hundreds  are  there  that 
live  from  hand  to  mouth  all  the  days  of  their  life?  (Begging 
your  honour's  pardon)  thinks  I,  if  we  little  folks  had  but  the 
wit  to  do  for  ourselves,  the  great  folks  would  not  be  such 
maggoty  changelings  as  they  are.  They  would  begin  to 
look  about  them. 

"But  there  is  another  thing  that  has  swayed  with  me  more 
than  all  the  rest.  I  do  not  know  how  to  tell  you,  sir — my 
poor  boy,  my  Leonard,  the  pride  of  my  life,  has  been  three 
weeks  in  the  county  jail.  It  is  true  indeed,  sir.  Squire 
Tyrrel  put  him  there.  Now,  sir,  every  time  that  I  lay  my 
head  upon  my  pillow  under  my  own  little  roof,  my  heart 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  143 

smites  me  with  the  situation  of  my  Leonard.  I  do  not  mean 
so  much  for  the  hardship;  I  do  not  so  much  matter  that. 
I  do  not  expect  him  to  go  through  the  world  upon  velvet; 
I  am  not  such  a  fool.  But  who  can  tell  what  may  hap  in  a 
jail!  I  have  been  three  times  to  see  him;  and  there  is  one 
man  in  the  same  quarter  of  the  prison  that  looks  so  wicked! 
I  do  not  much  fancy  the  looks  of  the  rest.  To  be  sure, 
Leonard  is  as  good  a  lad  as  ever  lived.  I  think  he  will  not 
give  his  mind  to  such.  But  come  what  will,  I  am  determined 
he  shall  not  stay  among  them  twelve  hours  longer.  I  am  an 
obstinate  old  fool  perhaps;  but  I  have  taken  it  into  my 
head,  and  I  will  do  it.  Do  not  ask  me  what.  But  if  I  were 
to  write  to  your  honour,  and  wait  for  your  answer,  it  might 
take  a  week  or  ten  days  more.    I  must  not  think  of  it! 

"Squire  Tyrrel  is  very  headstrong,  and  you,  your  honour, 
might  be  a  little  hottish,  or  so.  No,  I  would  not  have  any- 
body quarrel  for  me.  There  has  been  mischief  enough  done 
already;  and  I  will  get  myself  out  of  the  way.  So  I  write 
this,  your  honour,  merely  to  unload  my  mind.  I  feel  myself 
equally  as  much  bound  to  respect  and  love  you  as  if  you 
had  done  everything  for  me,  that  I  believe  you  would  have 
done  if  things  had  chanced  differently.  It  is  most  likely  you 
will  never  hear  of  me  any  more.  If  it  should  be  so,  set 
your  worthy  heart  at  rest.  I  know  myself  too  well  ever  to  / 
be  tempted  to  do  anything  that  is  really  bad.  I  have  now 
my  fortune  to  seek  in  the  world.  I  have  been  used  ill 
enough,  God  knows.  But  I  bear  no  malice;  my  heart  is  at 
peace  with  all  mankind ;  and  I  forgive  everybody.  It  is  like 
enough  that  poor  Leonard  and  I  may  have  hardship  enough 
to  undergo  among  strangers,  and  being  obliged  to  hide  our- 
selves like  housebreakers  or  highwaymen.  But  I  defy  all  the 
malice  of  fortune  to  make  us  do  an  ill  thing.  That  consola- 
tion we  will  always  keep  against  all  the  crosses  of  a  heart- 
breaking world. 

"God  bless  you! 
"So  prays, 
"Your  honour's  humble  servant  to  command, 

"Benjamin  Hawkins." 


144 


ADVENTURES  OF 


I  read  this  letter  with  considerable  attention,  and  it  occa- 
sioned me  many  reflections.  To  my  way  of  thinking  it  con- 
tained a  very  interesting  picture  of  a  blunt,  downright,  hon- 
est mind.  "It  is  a  melancholy  consideration,"  said  I  to  my- 
self; "but  such  is  man!  To  have  judged  from  appearances 
one  would  have  said,  this  is  a  fellow  to  have  taken  for- 
tune's buffets  and  rewards  with  an  incorruptible  mind.  And 
yet  see  where  it  all  ends!  This  man  was  capable  of  after- 
ward becoming  a  murderer,  and  finished  his  life  at  the 
gallows.  O  poverty!  thou  art  indeed  omnipotent!  Thou 
grindest  us  into  desperation;  thou  confoundest  all  our 
boasted  and  most  deep-rooted  principles;  thou  fillest  us  to 
the  very  brim  with  malice  and  revenge,  and  renderest  us 
capable  of  acts  of  unknown  horror !  May  I  never  be  visited 
by  thee  in  the  fulness  of  thy  power!" 

Having  satisfied  my  curiosity  with  respect  to  this  paper, 
I  took  care  to  dispose  of  it  in  such  a  manner  as  that  it  should 
be  found  by  Mr.  Falkland;  at  the  same  time  that,  in  obe- 
dience to  the  principle  which  at  present  governed  me  with 
absolute  dominion,  I  was  willing  that  the  way  in  which  it 
offered  itself  to  his  attention  should  suggest  to  him  the  idea 
that  it  had  possibly  passed  through  my  hands.  The  next 
morning  I  saw  him,  and  I  exerted  myself  to  lead  the  con- 
versation, which  by  this  time  I  well  knew  how  to  introduce, 
by  insensible  degrees  to  the  point  I  desired.  After  several 
previous  questions,  remarks,  and  rejoinders,  I  continued: — 

"Well,  sir,  after  all,  I  cannot  help  feeling  very  uncom- 
fortably as  to  my  ideas  of  human  nature,  when  I  find  that 
there  is  no  dependence  to  be  placed  upon  its  perseverance, 
and  that,  at  least  among  the  illiterate,  the  most  promising 
appearances  may  end  in  the  foulest  disgrace." 

"You  think,  then,  that  literature  and  a  cultivated  mind 
are  the  only  assurance  from  the  constancy  of  our  principles! " 

"Humph! — why,  do  you  suppose,  sir,  that  learning  and 
ingenuity  do  not  often  serve  people  rather  to  hide  their 
crimes  than  to  restrain  them  from  committing  them?  His- 
tory tells  us  strange  things  in  that  respect." 


; 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  145 

"Williams,"  said  Mr.  Falkland,  a  little  disturbed,  "you 
are  extremely  given  to  censure  and  severity." 

"I  hope  not.  I  am  sure  I  am  most  fond  of  looking  on 
the  other  side  of  the  picture,  and  considering  how  many 
men  have  been  aspersed,  and  even  at  some  time  or  other 
almost  torn  to  pieces  by  their  fellow-creatures,  whom,  when 
properly  understood,  we  find  worthy  of  our  reverence  and 
love." 

"Indeed,"  replied  Mr.  Falkland,  with  a  sigh,  "when  I 
consider  these  things  I  do  not  wonder  at  the  dying  exclama- 
tion of  Brutus,  'O  Virtu£fJ^sought  thefts  a.  substance,  but 
I  findtheejan_emptv  nameTr^J3g]^^mucri  inclined  to 
be  eJ^n^"oprnion."  ""    *  ~~ 

"Why,  to  be  sure,  sir,  JmipjC£nca^andguilt  are  too  much 
^confounded  in  humanjjfe.  I  remember*arTartectirig  storyof 
a  poor  man  in  the  reign  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  who  would 
have  infallibly  been  hanged  for  murder  upon  the  strength 
of  circumstantial  evidence,  if  the  person  really  concerned 
had  not  been  himself  upon  the  jury  and  prevented  it." 

In  saying  this  I  touched  the  spring  that  wakened  madness 
in  his  mind.  He  came  up  to  me  with  a  ferocious  counte- 
nance, as  if  determined  to  force  me  into  a  confession  of  my 
thoughts.  A  sudden  pang,  however,  seemed  to  change  his 
design!  He  drew  back  with  trepidation,  and  exclaimed,  "De^  ~f  [  ) 
tested  be  the  universe,  and  the  laws  that  govern  it !  Honour, 
justice,  virtue,  are  all  the  juggle  of  knaves!  Jf  it  were  in 
my  power  I  would  instantly  ^msh^  the  whole  system  into 
nothing!" 

I  replied,  "Oh,  sir!  things  are  not  so  bad  as  you  imagine. 
The  world  was  made  for  men  of  sense  to  do  what  they 
will  with.  Its  affairs  cannot  be  better  than  in  the  direction 
of  the  genuine  heroes ;  and  as  in  the  end  they  will  be  found 
the  truest  friends  of  the  whole,  so  the  multitude  have  noth- 
ing to  do  but  to  look  on,  be  fashioned,  and  admire." 

Mr.  Falkland  made  a  powerful  effort  to  recover  his  tran- 
quillity. "Williams,"  said  he,  "you  instruct  me  well.  You 
have  a  right  notion  of  things,  and  I  have  great  hopes  of 


'■> 


** 


i46  CALEB  WILLIAMS 

you.  I  will  be  more  of  a  man;  I  will  forget  the  past,  and 
do  better  for  the  time  to  come.  The  future,  the  future  is 
always  our  own." 

"I  am  sorry,  sir,  that  I  have  given  you  pain.  I  am 
afraid  to  say  all  that  I  think.  But  it  is  my  opinion  that 
mistakes  will  ultimately  be  cleared  up,  justice  done,  and 
the  true  state  of  things  come  to  light,  in  spite  of  the  false 
colours  that  may  for  a  time  obscure  it." 

The  idea  I  suggested  did  not  give  Mr.  Falkland  the  proper 
degree  of  delight.  He  suffered  a  temporary  relapse.  "Jus- 
tice!"— he  muttered.  "I  do  not  know  what  is  justice. 
My  case  is  not  within  the  reach  of  common  remedies;  per- 
haps of  none.  I  only  know  that  I  am  miserable.  I  began 
life  with  the  best  intentions  and  the  most  fervid  philan- 
thropy; and  here  I  am — miserable — miserable  beyond  ex- 
pression or  endurance." 

Having  said  this,  he  seemed  suddenly  to  recollect  himself, 
and  reassumed  his  accustomed  dignity  and  command.  "How 
came  this  conversation?"  cried  he.  "Who  gave  you  a  right 
to  be  my  confidant?  Base,  artful  wretch  that  you  are! 
Learn  to  be  more  respectful !  Are  my  passions  to  be  wound 
and  unwound  by  an  insolent  domestic?  Do  you  think  I 
will  be  an  instrument  to  be  played  on  at  your  pleasure,  till 
you  have  extorted  all  the  treasures  of  my  soul?  Begone, 
and  fear  lest  you  be  made  to  pay  for  the  temerity  you  have 
already  committed!" 

There  was  an  energy  and  determination  in  the  gestures 
with  which  these  words  were  accompanied,  that  did  not 
admit  of  their  being  disputed.  My  mouth  was  closed;  I 
felt  as  if  deprived  of  all  share  of  activity,  and  was  only  able 
silently  and  passively  to  quit  the  apartment. 


HT 


CHAPTER  FIFTEEN 

WO   days  subsequent   to    this   conversation,   Mr. 
Falkland  ordered  me  to  be  called  to  him.     [I  shall- 

JL  continue  to  speak  in  my  narrative  of  the  silent  as  ,1 
well  as  the  articulate  part  of  the  intercourse  between  us;, 
His  countenance  was  habitually  animated  and  expressive, 
much  beyond  that  of  any  other  man  I  have  seen.  The 
curiosity  which,  as  I  have  said,  constituted  my  ruling  pas- 
sion, stimulated  me  to  make  it  my  perpetual  study.  It  will  *. 
also  most  probably  happen,  while  I  am  thus  employed  in 
collecting  the  scattered  incidents  of  my  history,  that  I 
shall  upon  some  occasions  annex  to  appearances  an  explana- 
tion which  I  was  far  from  possessing  at  the  time,  and  was 
only  suggested  to  me  through  the  medium  of  subsequent 
events.] 

When  I  entered  the  apartment,  I  remarked  in  Mr.  Falk- 
land's countenance  an  unwonted  composure.  This  compo- 
sure, however,  did  not  seem  to  result  from  internal  ease, 
but  from  an  effort  which,  while  he  prepared  himself  for 
an  interesting  scene,  was  exerted  to  prevent  his  presence  of 
mind,  and  power  of  voluntary  action,  from  suffering  any 
diminution. 

"Williams,"  said  he,  "I  am  determined,  whatever  it  may 
cost  me,  to  have  an  explanation  with  you.  You  are  a  rash 
and  inconsiderate  boy,  and  have  given  me  much  disturbance. 
You  ought  to  have  known,  that  though  I  allow  you  to  talk 
with  me  upon  indifferent  subjects,  it  is  very  improper  in 
you  to  lead  the  conversation  to  anything  that  relates  to  my 
personal  concerns.  You  have  said  many  things  lately  in  a 
very  mysterious  way,  and  appear  to  know  something  more 
than  I  am  aware  of.    I  am  equally  at  a  loss  to  guess  how 

147 


148  ADVENTURES  OF 

you  came  by  your  knowledge,  as  of  what  it  consists.  But 
I  think  I  perceive  too  much  inclination  on  your  part  to  trifle 
with  my  peace  of  mind.  That  ought  not  to  be,  nor  have  I 
deserved  any  such  treatment  from  you.  But,  be  that  as  it 
will,  the  guesses  in  which  you  oblige  me  to  employ  myself 
are  too  painful.  It  is  a  sort  of  sporting  with  my  feelings, 
which,  as  a  man  of  resolution,  I  am  determined  to  bring 
to  an  end.  I  expect  you,  therefore,  to  lay  aside  all  mystery 
and  equivocation,  and  inform  me  explicitly  what  it  is  upon 
which  your  allusions  are  built.  Vhat  is  it  you  know? 
.What  isjt  you  want?  I  have  been  too  much  exposed  already 
to  unparalleled  mortification  and  hardship,  and  my  wounds 
will  not  bear  this  perpetual  tampering." 

"I  feel,  sir,"  answered  I,  "how  wrong  I  have  been,  and 
am  ashamed  that  such  a  one  as  I  should  have  given  you  all 
this  trouble  and  displeasure.  I  felt  it  at  the  time;  but  I 
have  been  hurried  along,  I  do  not  know  how.  I  have  always 
tried  to  stop  myself,  but  the  demon  that  possessed  me  was 
too  strong  for  me.  I  know  nothing,  sir,  but  what  Mr.  Collins 
told  me.  He  told  me  the  story  of  Mr.  Tyrrel  and  Miss  Mel- 
ville and  Hawkins.  I  am  sure,  sir,  he  said  nothing  but  what 
was  to  your  honour,  and  proved  you  to  be  more  an  angel 
than  a  man." 

"Well,  sir:  I  found  a  letter  written  by  that  Hawkins 
the  other  day;  did  not  that  letter  fall  into  your  hands? 
Did  not  you  read  it?" 

"For  God's  sake,  sir,  turn  me  out  of  your  house.  Punish 
me  in  some  way  or  other,  that  I  may  forgive  myself.  I  am  a 
foolish,  wicked,  despicable  wretch.  I  confess,  sir,  I  did  read 
the  letter." 

"And  how  dared  you  read  it?  It  was  indeed  very  wrong 
of  you.  But  we  will  talk  of  that  by-and-by.  Well,  and  what 
did  you  say  to  the  letter?  You  know,  it  seems,  that  Haw- 
kins was  hanged." 

"I  say,  sir?  Why,  it  went  to  my  heart  to  read  it.  I  say 
as  I  said  the  day  before  yesterday,  that  when  I  see  a  man 
of  so  much  principle  afterward  deliberately  proceeding  to 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  149 

the  very  worst  of  crimes,  I  can  scarcely  bear  to  think  of 
it." 

"That  is  what  you  say?     It  seems,  too,  you  know — 
accursed  remembrance! — that  I  was  accused  of  this  crime?" 

I  was  silent. 

"Well,  sir.  You  know,  too,  perhaps,  that  from  the  hour 
the  crime  was  committed — yes,  sir,  that  was  the  date  [and 
as  he  said  this,  there  was  somewhat  frightful,  I  had  almost 
said  diabolical,  in  his  countenance] — I  have  not  had  an^ 
hour's  peace;  I  became  changed  from  the  happiest  to  the 
most  miserable  thing  that  lives;  sleep  has  fled  from  my 
eyes;  joy  has  been  a  stranger  to  my  thoughts;  and  annihila- 
tion I  should  prefer  a  thousand  times  to  the  being  that  I 
am.  As  soon  as  I  was  capable  of  a  choice,  I  chose  honour 
and  tire  e^Leem  of  mankind  as  a  good  1  preterred  to  «H  ftthprs  j 
You  Know,  it  seems,  in  how  many  ways  my  ambition  has 
been  disappointed, — I  do  not  thank  Collins  for  having  been 
the  historian  of  my  disgrace, — would  to  God  that  night  could 
be  blotted  from  the  memory  of  man! — But  the  scene  of  that 
night,  instead  of  perishing,  has  been  a  source  of  ever  new 
calamity  to  me,  which  must  flow  for  ever!  Am  I  then,  thus 
miserable  and  ruined,  a  proper  subject  upon  which  for 
you  to  exercise  your  ingenuity,  and  improve  your  power  of 
tormenting?  Was  it  not  enough  that  I  was  publicly  dis- 
honoured? that  I  was  deprived,  by  the'TVc^  111  I'll  lial  iiifl  ucllLU1 
or^oomo  duiiun,  ul   Llle^   opportunity  of  avenging  my  dis- 

having  in  this  critical  moment  intercepted  my  own  venge- 
ance by  the  foulest  of  crimes.  That  trial  is  past.  Misery 
itself  has  nothing  worse  in  store  for  me,  except  what  you 
have  inflicted;  the  seeming  to  doubt  of  my  innocence, 
which,  after  the  fullest  and  most  solemn  examination,  has 
been  completely  established.  You  have  forced  me  to  this 
explanation.  You  have  extorted  from  me  a  confidence 
which  I  had  no  inclination  to  make.  But  it  is  a  part  of 
the  misery  of  my  situation  that  I  am  at  the  mercy  of  every 
creature,  however  little,  who  feels  himself  inclined  to  sport 


150 


CALEB  WILLIAMS 


with  my  distress.  Be  content.  You  have  brought  me  low 
enough." 

"Oh,  sir,  I  am  not  content;  I  cannot  be  content!  I 
cannot  bear  to  think  what  I  have  done.  I  shall  never  again 
be  able  to  look  in  the  face  of  the  best  of  masters  and  the 
best  of  men.  I  beg  of  you,  sir,  to  turn  me  out  of  your 
service.  Let  me  go  and  hide  myself  where  I  may  never 
see  you  more." 

Mr.  Falkland's  countenance  had  indicated  great  severity 
through  the  whole  of  this  conversation;  but  now  it  became 
more  harsh  and  tempestuous  than  ever.  "How  now,  rascal! " 
cried  he;  "you  want  to  leave  me,  do  you?  Who  told  you 
that  I  wished  to  part  with  you?  But  you  cannot  bear  to 
live  with  such  a  miserable  wretch  as  I  am!  You  are  not 
disposed  to  put  up  with  the  caprices  of  a  man  so  dissatisfied 
and  unjust!" 

"Oh,  sir,  do  not  talk  to  me  thus!  Do  with  me  anything 
you  will.     Kill  me,  if  you  please." 

"Kill  you!"  [Volumes  could  not  describe  the  emotions 
with  which  this  echo  of  my  words  was  given  and  received.] 

"Sir,  I  could  die  to  serve  you!  I  love  you  more  than  I 
can  express.  I  worship  you  as  a  being  of  a  superior  nature. 
I  am  foolish,  raw,  inexperienced, — worse  than  any  of  these; 
— but  never  did  a  thought  of  disloyalty  to  your  service  enter 
into  my  heart." 

Here  our  conversation  ended;  and  the  impression  it  made 
upon  my  youthful  mind  it  is  impossible  to  describe.  I 
thought  with  astonishment,  even  with  rapture,  of  the  atten- 
tion and  kindness  towards  me  I  discovered  in  Mr.  Falkland, 
through  all  the  roughness  of  his  manner.  I  could  never 
v  enough  wonder  at  finding  mvself,  fiumhle  as  L-HMfrJay  mv 
-  birth,  obscure  as  I  had  hitherto  been,  thus  suddenly  become 
of  so  much  importance  to  the  happiness  of  one  of  the 
most  enlightened  and  accomplished  men  in  England.  But 
this  consciousness  attached  me  to  my  patron  more  eagerly 
than  ever,  and  made  me  swear  a  thousand  times,  as  I  medi- 
tated upon  my  situation,  that  I  would  never  prove  unworthy 
of  so  generous  a  protector. 


^iw- 


CHAPTER  SIXTEEN      '  V)H  ^ 


V^ 


IS  it  not  unaccountable,  that  in  the  midst  of  all  my  in- 
creased veneration  for  my  patron,  the  first  tumult  of 
my  emotion  was  scarcely  subsided,  before  the  old 
question  that  had  excited  my  conjectures  recurred  to  my 
mind  Was  he  the  murderer?  It  was  a  kind  of  fatal  im- 
pulse,  tnat  seemed  destined  to  hurry  me  to  my  destruction. 
I  did  not  wonder  at  the  disturbance  that  was  given  to 
Mr.  Falkland  by  any  allusion,  however  distant,  to  this  fatal 
affair.  That  was  as  completely  accounted  for  from  the 
consideration  of  his  excessive  sensibility  in  matters  of 
honour,  as  it  would  have  been  upon  the  supposition  of  the 
most  atrocious  guilt.  Knowing,  as  he  did,  that  such  a 
charge  had  once  been  connected  with  his  name,  he  would 
of  course  be  perpetually  uneasy,  and  suspect  some  latent 
insinuation  at  every  possible  opportunity.  He  would  doubt 
and  fear,  lest  every  man  with  whom  he  conversed  har- 
boured the  foulest  suspicion  against  him.  In  my  case  he 
found  that  I  was  in  possession  of  some  information,  more 
than  he  was  aware  of,  without  its  being  possible  for  him 
to  decide  to  what  it  amounted, — whether  I  had  heard  a 
just  or  unjust,  a  candid  or  calumniatory  tale.  He  had 
also  reason  to  suppose  that  I  gave  entertainment  to  thoughts 
derogatory  to  his  honour^  and  that  I  did  not  form  that 
favourable  judgment  which  the  exquisite  refinement  of  his 
ruling  passion  made  indispensable  to  his  peace.  All  these 
considerations  would  of  course  maintain  in  him  a  state  of 
perpetual  uneasiness.  But  though  I  could  find  nothing  that 
I  could  consider  as  justifying  me  in  persisting  in  the 
shadow  of  a  doubt,  yet,  as  I  have  said,  the  uncertainty  and 
restlessness  of  my  contemplations  would  by  no  means  depart 
from  me. 

The  fluctuating  state  of  my  mind  produced  a  contention 

151 


152  ADVENTURES  OF 

of  opposite  principles,  that  by  turns  usurped  dominion  over 
my  conduct.  Sometimes  I  was  influenced  by  the  most 
complete  veneration  for  my  master;  I  placed  an  unreserved 
confidence  in  his  integrity  and  his  virtue,  and  implicitly 
surrendered  my  understanding  for  him  to  set  it  to  what  point 
he  pleased.  At  other  times  the  confidence  which  had  before 
flowed  with  the  most  plenteous  tide  began  to  ebb;  I  was, 
as  I  had  already  been,  watchful,  inquisitive,  suspicious,  full 
of  a  thousand  conjectures  as  to  the  meaning  of  the  most 
indifferent  actions.  Mr.  Falkland,  who  was  most  painfully 
alive  to  everything  that  related  to  his  honour,  saw  these 
variations,  and  betrayed  his  consciousness  of  them  now  in 
one  manner,  and  now  in  another,  frequently  before  I  was 
myself  aware,  sometimes  almost  before  they  existed.  The 
situation  of  both  was  distressing;  we  were  each  of  us  a 
plague  to  the  other;  and  I  often  wondered  that  the  for- 
bearance and  benignity  of  my  master  was  not  at  length 
exhausted,  and  that  he  did  not  determine  to  thrust  from  him 
for  ever  so  incessant  an  observer.  There  was  indeed  one 
eminent  difference  between  his  share  in  the  transaction  and 
mine.  I  had  some  consolation  in  the  midst  of  my  restless- 
ness^ r^ip^rjy  is  a  principle  that  carries  its  pleasures,  as 
well  as  its  pains,  along  with  it.  The  mind  is  urged  by  a 
perpetual  stimulus;  it  seems  as  if  it  were  continually  ap- 
proaching to  the  end  of  its  race;  and  as  the  insatiable  desire 
of  satisfaction  is  its  principle  of  conduct,  so  it  promises 
itself  in  that  satisfaction  an  unknown  gratification,  which 
seems  as  if  it  were  capable  of  fully  compensating  any 
injuries  that  may  be  suffered  in  the  career.  But  to  Mr. 
Falkland  there  was  no  consolation.  What  he  endured  in 
the  intercourse  between  us  appeared  to  be  gratuitous  evil. 
He  had  only  to  wish  that  there  was  no  such  person  as 
myself  in  the  world,  and  to  curse  the  hour  when  his  hu- 
manity led  him  to  rescue  me  from  my  obscurity,  and  place 

e  in  his  service. 

A  consequence  produced  upon  me  by  the  extraordinary 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  153 

nature  of  my  situation  it  is  necessary  to  mention.  The 
constant  state  of  vigilance  and  suspicion  in  which  my  mind 
was  retained,  worked  a  very  rapid  change  in  my  character. 
It  seemed  to  have  all  the  effect  that  might  have  been  ex- 
pected from  years  of  observation  and  experience.  The 
strictness  with  which  I  endeavoured  to  remark  what  passed 
in  the  mind  of  one  man,  and  the  variety  of  conjectures  into 
which  I  was  led,  appeared,  as  it  were,  to  render  me  a  com- 
petent adept  in  the  different  modes  in  which  the  human 
intellect  displays  its  secret  workings.  I  no  longer  said  to 
myself,  as  I  had  done  in  the  beginning,  "I  will  ask  Mr. 
Falkland  whether  he  were  the  murderer."  On  the  contrary, 
after  having  carefully  examined  the  different  kinds  of  evi- 
dence of  which  the  subject  was  susceptible,  and  recollecting 
all  that  had  already  passed  upon  the  subject,  it  was  not 
without  considerable  pain  that  I  felt  myself  unable  to  dis- 
cover any  way  in  which  I  could  be  perfectly  and  unalterably 
satisfied  of  my  patron's  innocence.  As  to  his  guilt,  I  could 
scarcely  bring  myself  to  doubt  that  in  some  way  or  other, 
sooner  or  later,  I  should  arrive  at  the  knowledge  of  that, 
if  it  really  existed.  But  I  could  not  endure  to  think,  almost 
for  a  moment,  of  that  side  of  the  alternative  as  true;  and 
with  all  my  ungovernable  suspicion  arising  from  the  mys- 
teriousness  of  the  circumstances,  and  all  the  delight  which 
a  young  and  unfledged  mind  receives  from  ideas  that  give 
scope  to  all  that  imagination  can  picture  of  terrible  or 
sublime,  I  could  not  yet  bring  myself  to  consider  Mr.  Falk- 
land's guilt  as  a  supposition  attended  with  the  remotest 
probability. 

I  hope  the  reader  will  forgive  me  for  dwelling  thus  long 
on  preliminary  circumstances.  I  shall  come  soon  enough 
to  the  story  of  my  own  misery.  I  have  already  said,  that 
one  of  the  motives  which  induced  me  to  the  penning  of  this 
narrative  was  to  console  myself  in  my  insupportable  distress. 
I  derive  a  melancholy  pleasure  from  dwelling  upon  the  cir- 
cumstances which  imperceptibly  paved  the  way  to  my  ruin. 
While  I  recollect  or  describe  past  scenes,  which  occurred 


154  ADVENTURES  OF 

in  a  more  favourable  period  of  my  life,  my  attention  is  called 
off  for  a  short  interval  from  the  hopeless  misfortune  in  which 
I  am  at  present  involved.  The  man  must  indeed  possess 
an  uncommon  portion  of  hardness  of  heart,  who  can  envy 
me  so  slight  a  relief. — To  proceed. 

For  some  time  after  the  explanation  which  had  thus  taken 
place  between  me  and  Mr.  Falkland,  his  melancholy,  instead 
of  being  in  the  slightest  degree  diminished  by  the  lenient 
hand  of  time,  went  on  perpetually  to  increase.  His  fits  of 
insanity — for  such  I  must  denominate  them  for  want  of  a 
distinct  appellation,  though  it  is  possible  they  might  not 
fall  under  the  definition  that  either  the  faculty  or  the  court 
of  chancery  appropriate  to  the  term — 'became  stronger  and 
more  durable  than  ever.  It  was  no  longer  practicable  wholly 
to  conceal  them  from  the  family,  and  even  from  the  neigh- 
bourhood. He  would  sometimes,  without  any  previous  no- 
tice, absent  himself  from  his  house  for  two  or  three  days, 
unaccompanied  by  servant  or  attendant.  This  was  the  more 
extraordinary,  as  it  is  well  known  that  he  paid  no  visits, 
nor  kept  up  any  sort  of  intercourse  with  the  gentlemen  of 
the  vicinity.  But  it  was  impossible  that  a  man  of  Mr. 
Falkland's  distinction  and  fortune  should  long  continue  in 
such  a  practice  without  its  being  discovered  what  was  be- 
come of  him;  though  a  considerable  part  of  our  county 
was  among  the  wildest  and  most  desolate  districts  that  are 
to  be  found  in  South  Britain.  Mr.  Falkland  was  sometimes 
seen  climbing  among  the  rocks,  reclining  motionless  for 
hours  together  upon  the  edge  of  a  precipice,  or  lulled  into 
a  kind  of  nameless  lethargy  of  despair  by  the  dashing  of  the 
torrents.  He  would  remain  for  whole  nights  together  under 
the  naked  cope  of  heaven,  inattentive  to  the  consideration 
either  of  place  or  time;  insensible  to  the  variations  of  the 
weather,  or  rather  seeming  to  be  delighted  with  that  uproar 
of  the  elements  which  partially  called  off  his  attention  from 
the  discord  and  dejection  that  occupied  his  own  mind. 

At  first,  when  we  received  intelligence  at  any  time  of  the 
place  to  which  Mr.  Falkland  had  withdrawn  himself,  some 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  155 

person  of  his  household,  Mr.  Collins  or  myself,  but  most 
generally  myself,  as  I  was  always  at  home,  and  always, 
in  the  received  sense  of  the  word,  at  leisure,  went  to  him 
to  persuade  him  to  return.  But,  after  a  few  experiments, 
we  thought  it  advisable  to  desist,  and  leave  him  to  prolong 
his  absence,  or  to  terminate  it,  as  might  happen  to  suit  his 
own  inclination.  Mr.  Collins,  whose  gray  hairs  and  long 
services  seemed  to  give  him  a  sort  of  right  to  be  importu- 
nate, sometimes  succeeded;  though  even  in  that  case  there 
was  nothing  that  could  sit  more  uneasily  upon  Mr.  Falkland 
than  this  insinuation  as  if  he  wanted  a  guardian  to  take 
care  of  him,  or  as  if  he  were  in,  or  in  danger  of  falling  into, 
a  state  in  which  he  would  be  incapable  of  deliberately  con- 
trolling his  own  words  and  actions.  At  one  time  he  would 
suddenly  yield  to  his  humble  venerable  friend,  murmuring 
grievously  at  the  constraint  that  was  put  upon  him,  but 
without  spirit  enough  even  to  complain  of  it  with  energy. 
At  another  time,  even  though  complying,  he  would  suddenly 
burst  out  in  a  paroxysm  of  resentment.  Upon  these  occa- 
sions there  was  something  inconceivably,  savagely  terrible 
in  his  anger,  that  gave  to  the  person  against  whom  it  was 
directed  the  most  humiliating  and  insupportable  sensations. 
Me  he  always  treated,  at  these  times,  with  fierceness,  and 
drove  me  from  him  with  a  vehemence  lofty,  emphatical,  and 
sustained,  beyond  anything  of  which  I  should  have  thought 
human  nature  to  be  capable.  These  sallies  seemed  always 
to  constitute  a  sort  of  crisis  in  his  indisposition ;  and  when- 
ever he  was  induced  to  such  a  premature  return,  he  would 
fall  immediately  after  into  a  state  of  the  most  melancholy 
inactivity,  in  which  he  usually  continued  for  two  or  three 
days.  It  was  by  an  obstinate  fatality,  that  whenever  I  saw 
Mr.  Falkland  in  these  deplorable  situations,  and  particularly 
when  I  lighted  upon  him  after  having  sought  him  among  the 
rocks  and  precipices,  pale,  emaciated,  solitary,  and  haggard, 
the  suggestion  would  continually  recur  to  me,  in  spite  of 
inclination,  in  spite  of  persuasion,  and  in  spite  of  evidence, 
Surely  this  man  is  a  murderer! 


CHAPTER  SEVENTEEN 

IT  was  in  one  of  the  lucid  intervals,  as  I  may  term  them, 
that  occurred  during  this  period,  that  a  peasant  was 
brought  before  him,  in  his  character  of  a  justice  of 
peace,  upon  an  accusation  of  having  murdered  his  fellow. 
As  Mr.  Falkland  had  by  this  time  acquired  the  repute  of 
a  melancholy  valetudinarian,"  it  is  probable  he  would  not 
have  been  called  upon  to  act  in  his  official  character  upon 
the  present  occasion,  had  it  not  been  that  two  or  three  of 
the  neighbouring  justices  were  all  of  them  from  home  at 
once,  so  that  he  was  the  only  one  to  be  found  in  a  circuit 
of  many  miles.  The  reader,  however,  must  not  imagine, 
though  I  have  employed  the  word  insanity  in  describing 
Mr.  Falkland's  symptoms,  that  he  was  by  any  means  reck- 
oned for  a  madman  by  the  generality  of  those  who  had 
occasion  to  observe  him.  It  is  true  that  his  behaviour,  at 
certain  times,  was  singular  and  unaccountable;  but  then, 
at  other  times,  there  was  in  it  so  much  dignity,  regularity, 
and  economy;  he  knew  so  well  how  to  command  and  make 
himself  respected;  his  actions  and  carriage  were  so  con- 
descending, considerate  and  benevolent,  that,  far  from 
having  forfeited  the  esteem  of  the  unfortunate  or  the  many, 
they  were  loud  and  earnest  in  his  praises. 

I  was  present  at  the  examination  of  this  peasant.  The 
moment  I  heard  of  the  errand  which  had  brought  this 
rabble  of  visitors,  a  sudden  thought  struck  me.  I  conceived 
the  possibility  of  rendering  the  incident  subordinate  to  the 
great  inquiry  which  drank  up  all  the  currents  of  my  soul. 
I  said,  this  man  is  arraigned  of  murder,  and  murder  is  the 
master-key  that  wakes  distemper  in  the  mind  of  Mr. 
Falkland.  I  will  watch  him  without  remission,  I  will  trace 
all  the  mazes  of  his  thought.     Surely,  at  such  a  time  his 

156 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  157 

secret  anguish  must  betray  itself.  Surely,  if  it  be  not  my 
own  fault,  I  shall  now  be  able  to  discover  the  state  of 
his  plea  before  the  tribunal  of  unerring  justice. 

I  took  my  station  in  a  manner  most  favourable  to  the 
object  upon  which  my  mind  was  intent.  I  could  perceive 
in  Mr.  Falkland's  features,  as  he  entered,  a  strong  reluctance 
to  the  business  in  which  he  was  engaged;  but  there  was  no 
possibility  of  retreating.  His  countenance  was  embarrassed 
and  anxious;  he  scarcely  saw  anybody.  The  examination 
had  not  proceeded  far  before  he  chanced  to  turn  his  eye 
to  the  part  of  the  room  where  I  was.  It  happened  in  this 
as  in  some  preceding  instances — we  exchanged  a  silent  look, 
by  which  we  told  volumes  to  each  other.  Mr.  Falkland's 
complexion  turned  from  red  to  pale  and  from  pale  to  red. 
I  perfectly  understood  his  feelings,  and  would  willingly  have 
withdrawn  myself.  But  it  was  impossible;  my  passions- 
were  too  deeply  engaged;  I  was  rooted  to  the  spot;  though 
my  own  life,  that  of  my  master,  or  almost  of  a  whole  nation 
had  been  at  stake,  I  had  no  power  to  change  my  position. 

The  first  surprise,  however,  having  subsided,  Mr.  Falkland 
assumed  a  look  of  determined  constancy,  and  even  seemed 
to  increase  in  self-possession  much  beyond  what  could  have 
been  expected  from  his,  first  entrance.  This  he  could  prob- 
ably have  maintained,  had  it  not  been  that  the  scene,  instead 
of  being  permanent,  was  in  some  sort  perpetually  changing. 
The  man  who  was  brought  before  him  was  vehemently  ac- 
cused by  the  brother  of  the  deceased  as  having  acted  from 
the  most  rooted  malice.  He  swore  that  there  had  been 
an  old  grudge  between  the  parties,  and  related  several 
instances  of  it.  He  affirmed  that  the  murderer  had  sought 
the  earliest  opportunity  of  wreaking  his  revenge ;  had  struck 
the  first  blow;  and  though  the  contest  was  in  appearance 
only  a  common  boxing  match,  had  watched  the  occasion  of 
giving  a  fatal  stroke,  which  was  followed  by  the  instant 
death  of  his  antagonist. 

While  the  accuser  was  giving  in  his  evidence,  the  accused 
discovered  every  token  of  the  most  poignant  sensibility. 


I 


158  ADVENTURES  OF 

At  one  time  his  features  were  convulsed  with  anguish;  tears 
unbidden  trickled  down  his  manly  cheeks;  and  at  another 
he  started  with  apparent  astonishment  at  the  unfavourable 
turn  that  was  given  to  the  narrative,  though  without  be- 
traying any  impatience  to  interrupt.  I  never  saw  a  man 
less  ferocious  in  his  appearance.  He  was  tall,  well  made, 
and  comely.  His  countenance  was  ingenuous  and  benevo- 
lent, without  folly.  By  his  side  stood  a  young  woman,  his 
sweetheart,  extremely  agreeable  in  her  person,  and  her  looks 
testifying  how  deeply  she  interested  herself  in  the  fate  of 
her  lover.  The  accidental  spectators  were  divided  between 
indignation  against  the  enormity  of  the  supposed  criminal, 
and  compassion  for  the  poor  girl  that  accompanied  him. 
They  seemed  to  take  little  notice  of  the  favourable  appear- 
ances visible  in  the  person  of  the  accused,  till,  in  the  sequel, 
those  appearances  were  more  forcibly  suggested  to  their 
attention.  As  for  Mr.  Falkland,  he  was  at  one  moment  en- 
grossed by  curiosity  and  earnestness  to  investigate  the  tale, 
while  at  another  he  betrayed  a  sort  of  revulsion  of  senti- 
ment, which  made  the  investigation  too  painful  for  him 
to  support. 

When  the  accused  was  called  upon  for  his  defence,  he 
readily  owned  the  misunderstanding  that  had  existed,  and 
that  the  deceased  was  the  worst  enemy  he  had  in  the  world. 
Indeed,  he  was  his  only  enemy,  and  he  could  not  tell  the 
reason  that  had  made  him  so.  He  had  employed  every 
effort  to  overcome  his  animosity,  but  in  vain.  The  deceased 
had  upon  all  occasions  sought  to  mortify  him,  and  do  him 
an  ill  turn;  but  he  had  resolved  never  to  be  engaged  in  a 
broil  with  him,  and  till  this  day  he  had  succeeded.  If  he 
had  met  with  a  misfortune  with  any  other  man,  people  at 
least  might  have  thought  it  accident;  but  now  it  would 
always  be  believed  that  he  had  acted  from  secret  malice 
and  a  bad  heart. 

The  fact  was,  that  he  and  his  sweetheart  had  gone  to  a 
neighbouring  fair,  where  this  man  had  met  them.  The 
man  had  often  tried  to  affront  him;   and  his  passiveness, 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  159 

interpreted  into  cowardice,  had  perhaps  encouraged  the  other 
to  additional  rudeness.  Finding  that  he  had  endured  trivial 
insults  to  himself,  with  an  even  temper,  the  deceased  now 
thought  proper  to  turn  his  brutality  upon  the  young  woman 
that  accompanied  him.  He  pursued  them;  he  endeavoured 
in  various  manners  to  harass  and  vex  them ;  they  had  sought 
in  vain  to  shake  him  off.  The  young  woman  was  consider- 
ably terrified.  The  accused  expostulated  with  their  per- 
secutor, and  asked  him  how  he  could  be  so  barbarous  as 
to  persist  in  frightening  a  woman?  He  replied,  with  an 
insulting  tone,  "Then  the  woman  should  find  some  one  able 
to  protect  her;  people  that  encouraged  and  trusted  to  such 
a  thief  as  that,  deserved  no  better!"  The  accused  tried 
every  expedient  he  could  invent;  at  length  he  could  endure 
it  no  longer;  he  became  exasperated,  and  challenged  the 
assailant.  The  challenge  was  accepted;  a  ring  was  formed; 
he  confided  the  care  of  his  sweetheart  to  a  bystander;  and, 
unfortunately,  the  first  blow  he  struck  proved  fatal. 

The  accused  added,  that  he  did  not  care  what  became 
of  him.  He  had  been  anxious  to  go  through  the  world  in 
an  inoffensive  manner,  and  now  he  had  the  guilt  of  blood 
upon  him.  He  did  not  know  but  it  would  be  kindness  in 
them  to  hang  him  out  of  the  way ;  for  his  conscience  would 
reproach  him  as  long  as  he  lived,  and  the  figure  of  the 
deceased,  as  he  had  lain  senseless  and  without  motion  at 
his  feet,  would  perpetually  haunt  him.  The  thought  of 
this  man,  at  one  moment  full  of  life  and  vigour,  and  the 
next  lifted  a  helpless  corpse  from  the  ground,  and  all  owing 
to  him,  was  a  thought  too  dreadful  to  be  endured.  He 
had  loved  the  poor  maiden  who  had  been  the  innocent 
occasion  of  this  with  all  his  heart;  but  from  this  time  he 
should  never  support  the  sight  of  her.  The  sight  would 
bring  a  tribe  of  fiends  in  its  rear.  One  unlucky  minute 
had  poisoned  all  his  hopes,  and  made  life  a  burden  to  him. 
Saying  this,  his  countenance  fell,  the  muscles  of  his  face 
trembled  with  agony,  and  he  looked  the  statue  of  despair. 

This  was  the  story  of  which  Mr.  Falkland  was  called 


i6o 


ADVENTURES  OF 


upon  to  be  the  auditor.^  Though  the  incidents  were,  for 
the  most  part,  wide  of  those  which  belonged  to  the  adven- 
tures of  the  preceding  chapters  and  there  had  been  much 
less  policy  and  skill  displayed  on  either  part  in  this  rustic 
encounter,  yet  there  were  many  points  which,  to  a  man  who 
bore  the  former  strongly  in  his  recollection,  suggested  a  suf- 
ficient resemblance.  In  each  case  it  was  a  human  brute  per- 
sisting in  a  course  of  hostility  to  a  man  of  benevolent  charac- 
ter, and  suddenly  and  terribly  cut  off  in  the  midst  of  his  ca- 
jreer\\  These  points  perpetually  smote  upon  the  heart  of  Mr. 
Falkland.  He  at  one  time  started  with  astonishment,  and  at 
another  shifted  his  posture,  like  a  man  who  is  unable  longer 
to  endure  the  sensations  that  press  upon  him.  Then  he 
new  strung  his  nerves  to  stubborn  patience.  I  could  see, 
while  his  muscles  preserved  an  inflexible  steadiness,  tears 
of  anguish  roll  down  his  cheeks.  He  dared  not  trust  his 
eyes  to  glance  towards  the  side  of  the  room  where  I  stood; 
and  this  gave  an  air  of  embarrassment  to  his  whole  figure. 
But  when  the  accused  came  to  speak  of  his  feelings,  to 
describe  the  depth  of  his  compunction  for  an  involuntary 
fault,  he  could  endure  it  no  longer.  He  suddenly  rose,  and 
with  every  mark  of  horror  and  despair  rushed  out  of  the 
room. 

This  circumstance  made  no  material  difference  in  the 
affair  of  the  accused.  The  parties  were  detained  about 
half  an  hour.  Mr.  Falkland  had  already  heard  the  material 
parts  of  the  evidence  in  person.  At  the  expiration  of  that 
interval  he  sent  for  Mr.  Collins  out  of  the  room.  The  story 
of  the  culprit  was  confirmed  by  many  witnesses  who  had 
seen  the  transaction.  Word  was  brought  that  my  master 
was  indisposed;  and,  at  the  same  time,  the  accused  was 
ordered  to  be  discharged.  The  vengeance  of  the  brother, 
however,  as  I  afterward  found,  did  not  rest  here,  and  he 
met  with  a  magistrate,  more  scrupulous  or  more  despotic, 
by  whom  the  culprit  was  committed  for  trial. 

This  affair  was  no  sooner  concluded,  than  I  hastened 
into  the  garden,  and  plunged  into  the  deepest  of  its  thickets. 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  161 

My  mind  was  full,  almost  to  bursting.  I  no  sooner  conceived 
myself  sufficiently  removed  from  all  observation,  than  my 
thoughts  forced  their  way  spontaneously  to  my  tongue,  and 
I  exclaimed,  in  a  fit  of  uncontrollable  enthusiasm,  "This  is 
the  murderer;  the  Hawkinses  were  innocent!  I  am  sure 
of  it!  I  will  pledge  my  life  for  it!  It  is  out!  It  is  dis- 
covered!    Guilty,  upon  my  soul!" 

While  I  thus  proceeded  with  hasty  steps  along  the  most 
secret  paths  of  the  garden,  and  from  time  to  time  gave  vent       ||  n  P  ' 
to  the  tumult  of  my  thoughts  in  involuntary  exclamations,  rJJr  cjL 
I  felt  as  if  my  animal  system  had  undergone  a  total  revo-      ckrtfy* 
lution.    My  blood  boiled  within  me.    I  was  conscious  toa*  £f^\ 
kind  of  rapture  for  which  I  could  not  account.    I  was  ^"^Kt^ftV?7 
emn,  yet  full  of  rapid  emotion,  burning  with  indignation (f^^r 
and  energy.     In  the  very  tempest  and  hurricane  of  thevvtf^   X° 
passions,  I  seemed  to  enjoy  the  most  soul-ravishing  calm.  %A(r*Q,  ' 
I  cannot  better  express  the  then  state  of  my  mind  than  by   ^   $- 
saying,  I  was  never  so  perfectly  alive  as  at  that  moment. 

This  state  of  mental  elevation  continued  for  several  hours, 
but  at  length  subsided,  and  gave  place  to  more  deliberate 
reflection.  One  of  the  first  questions  that  then  occurred 
was,  what  shall  I  do  with  the  knowledge  I  have  been  so  eager 
to  acquire?  I  had  no  inclination  to  turn  informer.  I  felt 
what  I  had  had  no  previous  conception  of,  that  it  was  pos- 
sible to  love  a  murderer,  and,  as  I  then  understood  it,  the 
worst  of  murderers.  I  conceived  it  to  be  in  the  highest 
degree  absurd  and  iniquitous,  to  cut  off  a  man  qualified  for 
the  most  essential  and  extensive  utility,  merely  out  of 
retrospect  to  an  act  which,  whatever  were  its  merits,  could 
not  be  retrieved. 

This  thought  led  me  to  another,  which  had  at  first  passed 
unnoticed.  If  I  had  been  disposed  to  turn  informer,  what 
had  occurred  amounted  to  no  evidence  that  was  admissible 
in  a  court  of  justice.  Well  then,  added  I,  if  it  be  such  as 
would  not  be  admitted  at  a  criminal  tribunal,  am  I  sure 
it  is  such  as  I  ought  to  admit?  There  were  twenty  persons 
besides  myself  present  at  the  scene  from  which  I  pretend 


162  CALEB  WILLIAMS 

to  derive  such  entire  conviction.  Not  one  of  them  saw  it 
in  the  light  that  I  did.  It  either  appeared  to  them  a 
casual  and  unimportant  circumstance,  or  they  thought  it 
sufficiently  accounted  for  by  Mr.  Falkland's  infirmity  and 
misfortunes.  Did  it  really  contain  such  an  extent  of  argu- 
ments and  application,  that  nobody  but  I  was  discerning 
enough  to  see? 

But  all  this  reasoning  produced  no  alteration  in  my  way 
of  thinking.  For  this  time  I  could  not  get  it  out  of  my 
mind  for  a  moment:  "Mr.  Falkland  is  the  murderer!  He 
is  guilty!  I  see  it!  I  feel  it!  I  am  sure  of  it!"  Thus 
was  I  hurried  along  bj'  an  uncontrollable  destiny.  The 
state  of  my  passions  in  their  progressive  career,  the  inquisi- 
tiveness  and  impatience  of  my  thoughts,  appeared  to  make 
this  determination  unavoidable. 

An  incident  occurred  while  I  was  in  the  garden  that 
seemed  to  make  no  impression  upon  me  at  the  time,  but 
which  I  recollected  when  my  thoughts  were  got  into  some- 
what of  a  slower  motion.  In  the  midst  of  one  of  my 
paroxysms  of  exclamation,  and  when  I  thought  myself 
most  alone,  the  shadow  of  a  man  as  avoiding  me  passed 
transiently  by  me  at  a  small  distance.  Though  I  had 
scarcely  caught  a  faint  glimpse  of  his  person,  there  was 
something  in  the  occurrence  that  persuaded  me  it  was  Mr. 
Falkland.  I  shuddered  at  the  possibility  of  his  having  over- 
heard the  words  of  my  soliloquy.  But  this  idea,  alarming 
as  it  was,  had  not  power  immediately  to  suspend  the  career 
of  my  reflections.  Subsequent  circumstances,  however, 
brought  back  the  apprehension  to  my  mind.  I  had  scarcely 
a  doubt  of  its  reality,  when  dinner-time  came,  and  Mr. 
Falkland  was  not  to  be  found.  Supper  and  bedtime  passed 
in  the  same  manner.  The  only  conclusion  made  by  his 
servants  upon  this  circumstance  was,  that  he  was  gone  upon 
one  of  his  accustomed  melancholy  rambles. 


CHAPTER  EIGHTEEN 

THE  period  at  which  my  story  is  now  arrived,  seemed 
as  if  it  were  the  very  crisis  of  the  fortune  of  Mr. 
Falkland.  Incident  followed  upon  incident,  in  a 
kind  of  breathless  succession.  About  nine  o'clock  the 
next  morning  an  alarm  was  given  that  one  of  the  chimneys 
of  the  house  was  on  fire.  No  accident  could  be  apparently 
more  trivial;  but  presently  it  blazed  with  such  fury  as  to 
make  it  clear  that  some  beam  of  the  house,  which  in  the 
first  building  had  been  improperly  placed,  had  been  reached 
by  the  flames.  Some  danger  was  apprehended  for  the  whole 
edifice.  The  confusion  was  the  greater,  in  consequence  of 
the  absence  of  the  master,  as  well  as  of  Mr.  Collins,  the 
steward.  While  some  of  the  domestics  were  employed  in 
endeavouring  to  extinguish  the  flames,  it  was  thought  proper 
that  others  should  busy  themselves  in  removing  the  most 
valuable  moveables  to  a  lawn  in  the  garden.  I  took  some 
command  in  the  affair,  to  which  indeed  my  station  in  the 
family  seemed  to  entitle  me,  and  for  which  I  was  judged 
qualified  by  my  understanding  and  mental  resources. 

Having  given  some  general  directions,  I  conceived  that 
it  was  not  enough  to  stand  by  and  superintend,  but  that  I 
should  contribute  my  personal  labour  in  the  public  concern. 
I  set  out  for  that  purpose ;  and  my  steps,  by  some  mysterious 
fatality,  were  directed  to  the  private  apartment  at  the  end 
of  the  library.  Here,  as  I  looked  round,  my  eye  was 
suddenly  caught  by  the  trunk  mentioned  in  the  first  pages 
of  my  narrative. 

My  mind  was  already  raised  to  its  utmost  pitch.  In  a 
window-seat  of  the  room  lay  a  number  of  chisels  and  other 
carpenter's  tools.    I  know  not  what  infatuation  instantane- 

163 


1 64  ADVENTURES  OF 

ously  seized  me.  The  idea  was  too  powerful  to  be  resisted. 
I  forgot  the  business  upon  which  I  came,  the  employment 
of  the  servants,  and  the  urgency  of  general  danger.  I  should 
have  done  the  same  if  the  flames  that  seemed  to  extend 
as  they  proceeded,  and  already  surmounted  the  house,  had 
reached  this  very  apartment.  I  snatched  a  tool  suitable 
for  the  purpose,  threw  myself  upon  the  ground,  and  applied 
with  eagerness  to  a  magazine  which  enclosed  all  for  which 
my  heart  panted.  After  two  or  three  efforts,  in  which  the 
energy  of  uncontrollable  passion  was  added  to  my  bodily 
strength,  the  fastenings  gave  way,  the  trunk  opened,  and 
all  that  I  sought  was  at  once  within  my  reach. 

I  was  in  the  act  of  lifting  up  the  lid,  when  Mr.  Falkland 
entered,  wild,  breathless,  distracted  in  his  looks!  He  had 
been  brought  home  from  a  considerable  distance  by  the 
sight  of  the  flames.  At  the  moment  of  his  appearance  the 
lid  dropped  down  from  my  hand.  He  no  sooner  saw  me 
than  his  eyes  emitted  sparks  of  rage.  He  ran  with  eager- 
ness to  a  brace  of  loaded  pistols  which  hung  in  the  room, 
and,  seizing  one,  presented  it  to  my  head.  I  saw  his  de- 
sign, and  sprang  to  avoid  it;  but,  with  the  same  rapidity 
with  which  he  had  formed  his  resolution,  he  changed  it, 
and  instantly  went  to  the  window,  and  flung  the  pistol  into 
the  court  below.  He  bade  me  begone  with  his  usual  irre- 
sistible energy;  and,  overcome  as  I  was  already  by  the 
horror  of  the  detection,  I  eagerly  complied. 

A  moment  after,  a  considerable  part  of  the  chimney  tum- 
bled with  noise  into  the  court  below,  and  a  voice  exclaimed 
that  the  fire  was  more  violent  than  ever.  These  circum- 
stances seemed  to  produce  a  mechanical  effect  upon  my 
patron,  who,  having  first  locked  the  closet,  appeared  on  the 
outside  of  the  house,  ascended  the  roof,  and  was  in  a  moment 
in  every  place  where  his  presence  was  required.  The  flames 
were  at  length  extinguished. 

The  reader  can  with  difficulty  form  a  conception  of  the 
state  to  which  I  was  now  reduced.  My  act  was  in  some 
sort  an  act  of  insanity;  but  how  indescribable  are  the  feel- 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  165 

ings  with  which  I  looked  back  upon  it!  It  was  an  in- 
stantaneous impulse,  a  short-lived  and  passing  alienation  of 
mind;  but  what  must  Mr.  Falkland  think  of  that  alienation? 
To  any  man  a  person  who  had  once  shown  himself  capable 
of  so  wild  a  flight  of  the  mind  must  appear  dangerous: 
how~Trlu"sTTie  appear  to  a  man  under  Mr.  Falklandrs  cir- 
cumstances? I  had  just  had  a  pistol  held  to  my  head  by  a 
man  resolved  to  put  a  period  to  nvy  existence.  That  indeed 
was  past;  but  what  was  it  that  fate  had  yet  in  reserve 
for  me?  The  insatiable  vengeance  of  a  Falkland,  of  a 
man  whose  hands  were,  to  my  apprehension,  red  with  blood, 
and  his  thoughts  familiar  with  cruelty  and  murder.  How 
great  were  the  resources  of  his  mind,  resources  henceforth 
to  be  confederated  for  my  destruction!  This  was  the  ter- 
mination of  an  ungoverned  curiosity,  an  impulse  that  I  had 
represented  to  myself  as  so  innocent  or  so  venial. 

In  the  high  tide  of  boiling  passion  I  had  overlooked  all 
consequences.  It  now  appeared  to  me  like  a  dream.  Is  it 
in  man  to  leap  from  the  high-raised  precipice,  or  rush  un- 
concerned into  the  midst  of  flames?  Was  it  possible  I 
could  have  forgotten  for  a  moment  the  awe-creating  manners 
of  Falkland,  and  the  inexorable  fury  I  should  awake  in  his 
soul?  No  thought  of  future  security  had  reached  my  mind. 
I  had  acted  upon  no  plan.  I  had  conceived  no  means  of 
concealing  my  deed  after  it  had  once  been  effected.  But 
it  was  over  now.  One  short  minute  had  effected  a  reverse 
in  my  situation,  the  suddenness  of  which  the  history  of 
man,  perhaps,  is  unable  to  surpass. 

I  have  always  been  at  a  loss  to  account  for  my  having 
plunged  thus  headlong  into  an  act  so  monstrous.  There 
is  something  in  it  of  unexplained  and  involuntary  sympathy. 
One  sentiment  flows,  by  necessity  of  nature,  into  another 
sentiment  of  the  same  general  character.  This  was  the  first 
instance  in  which  I  had  witnessed  a  danger  by  fire.  All  was 
confusion  around  me,  and  all  changed  into  hurricane  within. 
The  general  situation,  to  my  unpractised  apprehension, 
appeared  desperate,  and  I  by  contagion  became  alike  des- 


1 66  ADVENTURES  OF 

perate.    At  first  I  had  been  in  some  degree  calm  and  col- 
lected, but  that  too  was  a  desperate  effort;  and  when  it 
gave  way,  a  kind  of  instant  insanity  became  its  successor. 
I  had  now  everything  to  fear.     And  yet  what  was  my 
fault?     It  proceeded  from  none  of  those  errors  which  are 
justly  held  up  to  the  aversion  of  mankind;  my  object  had 
been  neither  wealth,  nor  the  means  of  indulgence,  nor  the 
usurpation  of  power.    No  spark  of  malignity  had  harboured 
in  my  soul.    I  had  always  reverenced  the  sublime  mind  of 
Mr.  Falkland;  I  reverenced  it  still.    My  offence  had  merely 
been  a  mistaken  thirst  for  knowledge.    Such,  however,  it  was, 
-~as  to  admit  neither  of  forgiveness  nor  remission.    This  epoch 
was  the  crisis  of  my  fate,  dividing  what  may  be  called  the 
offensive  part  from  the  defensive,  which  has  been  the  sole 
business  of  my  remaining  years.     Alas!    my  offence  was 
short,  not  aggravated  by  any  sinister  intention:   but  the 
reprisals  I  was  to  suffer  are  long,  and  can  terminate  only 
with  my  life! 

In  the  state  in  which  I  found  myself,  when  the  recollec- 
tion of  what  I  had  done  flowed  back  upon  my  mind,  I  was 
incapable  of  any  resolution.  All  was  chaos  and  uncertainty 
within  me.  My  thoughts  were  too  full  of  horror  to  be 
susceptible  of  activity.  I  felt  deserted  of  my  intellectual 
powers,  palsied  in  mind,  and  compelled  to  sit  in  speech- 
less expectation  of  the  misery  to  which  I  was  destined. 
To  my  own  conception  I  was  like  a  man  who,  though  blasted 
with  lightning,  and  deprived  for  ever  of  the  power  of  mo- 
tion, should  yet  retain  the  consciousness  of  his  situation. 
Death-dealing  despair  was  the  only  idea  of  which  I  was 
sensible. 

I  was  still  in  this  situation  of  mind  when  Mr.  Falkland 
sent  for  me.  His  message  roused  me  from  my  trance.  In 
recovering,  I  felt  those  sickening  and  loathsome  sensations 
which  a  man  may  be  supposed  at  first  to  endure  who  should 
return  from  the  sleep  of  death.  Gradually  I  recovered  the 
power  of  arranging  my  ideas  and  directing  my  steps.  I 
understood  that  the  minute  the  affair  of  the  fire  was  over 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  167 

Mr.  Falkland  had  retired  to  his  own  room.  It  was  evening 
before  he  ordered  me  to  be  called. 

I  found  in  him  every  token  of  extreme  distress,  except 
that  there  was  an  air  of  solemn  and  sad  composure  that 
crowned  the  whole.  For  the  present,  all  appearance  of 
gloom,  stateliness,  and  austerity  was  gone.  As  I  entered 
he  looked  up,  and,  seeing  who  it  was,  ordered  me  to  bolt 
the  door.  I  obeyed.  He  went  round  the  room,  and  ex- 
amined its  other  avenues.  He  then  returned  to  where  I 
stood.  I  trembled  in  every  joint  of  my  frame.  I  exclaimed 
within  myself,  "What  scene  of  death  has  Roscius  now  to 
act?" 

"Williams!"  said  he,  in  a  tone  which  had  more  in  it  of 
sorrow  than  resentment,  "I  have  attempted  your  life!  I 
am  a  wretch  devoted  to  the  scorn  and  execration  of  man- 
kind!"There  ~lle"  s  tupped."  m 


there  be  one  being  on  the  whole  earth  that  feels 
the  scorn  and  execration  due  to  such  a  wretch  more  strongly 
than  another,  it  is  myself.  I  have  been  kept  in  a  state  of 
pe$ectual  torture  and  madness.  But  I  can  put  an  end  to 
it  taj  its  consequences;  and,  so  far  at  least  as  relates  to  you, 
I  u«^  determined  to  do  it.  I  know  the  price,  and — I  will 
make  the  purchase. 

"You  must  swear,"  said  he.  "You  must  attest  every  sac- 
rament, divine  and  human,  never  to  disclose  what  I  am 
now  to  tell  you." — He  dictated  the  oath,  and  I  repeated 
it  with  an  aching  heart.  I  had  no  power  to  offer  a  word 
of  remark. 

"This  confidence,"  said  he,  "is  of  your  seeking,  not  of 
mine.    It  is  odious  to  me,  and  is  dangerous  to  you." 

Having  thus  prefaced  the  disclosure  he  had  to  make,  he 
paused.  He  seemed  to  collect  himself  as  for  an  effort  of 
magnitude.  He  wiped  his  face  with  his  handkerchief.  The 
moisture  that  incommoded  him  appeared  not  to  be  tears, 
but  sweat. 

"Look  at  me.  Observe  me.  Is  it  not  strange  that  such 
a  one  as  I  should  retain  lineaments  of  a  human  creature? 


1 68  ADVENTURES  OF 

T  aaa  fV>A  blackest  nf  villains.  I  am  the  murderer  of 
Tyrrel.    I  am  the  assassin  of  tne  Hawkinses." 

I  started  with  terror,  and  was  silent. 

"What  a  story  is  mine!     Insulted,  disgraced,  polluted 

in  thp  farp  p^^jmiicadfiwJUiitt^xaDable  oi  any  act  of  des- 

lon.     I  watched  my  opportunity,  followed  Mr.  Tyrrel 

rom  the  rooms,  seized  a  sharp-pointed  knife  that  fell  in 

my  way,  came  behind  him  and  stabbed  him  to  the  heart. 

My  gigantic  oppressor  rolled  at  my  feet. 

"All  are  but  links  of  one  chain.    A  blow!     A  murder! 


My  next  business  was  to  defend  myself,  to  tell  so  well- 
digested  a  lie  as  that  all  mankind  should  believe  it  true. 
Never  was  a  task  so  harrowing  and  intolerable! 

"Well,  thus  far  fortune  favoured  me;  she  favoured  me 
beyond  my  desire.  The  guilt  was  removed  from  me,  and 
cast  upon  another;  but  this  I  was  to  endure.  Whence 
came  the  circumstantial  evidence  against  him,  the  broken 
knife  and  the  blood,  I  am  unable  to  tell.  I  suppose,  by 
some  miraculous  accident,  Hawkins  was  passing  by^  and 
endeavoured  to  assist  his  oppressor  in  the  agonies  of  [  wlth. 
You  have  heard  his  story;  you  have  read  one  of  his  l^;*&rs. 
But  you  do  not  know  the  thousandth  part  of  the  proofs  of 
his  simple  and  unalterable  rectitude  that  I  have  known. 
His  son  suffered  with  him;  that  son  for  the  sake  of  whose 
happiness  and  virtue  he  ruined  himself,  and  would  have 
died  a  hundred  times. — I  have  had  feelings,  but  I  cannot 
describe  them. 

"This  it  is  to  be  a  gentleman!  a  man  of  honour!     I  was 

the  fool  of  fame.     My  virtue,  my  honesty,  my  everlasting 

peace  of  mind,  were  cheap  sacrifices  to  be  made  at  the 

shrine  of  this  divinity.    But,  what  is  worse,  there  is  nothing 

that  has  happened  that  has  in  any  degree  contributed  to 

my  cure.    I  am  as  much  the  fool  of  fame  as  ever.    I  cling 

I  to  it  to  my  last  breath.    Though  I  be  the  blackest  of  vil- 

I  lains,  I  will  leave  behind  me  a  spotless  and  illustrious  name. 

;  There  is  no  crime  sef  malignant,   no   scene   of  blood  SS 

horrible,  in  which  that  object  cannot  engage  me.    It  is  no 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  169 

matter  that  I  regard  these  things  at  a  distance  with  aver-\ 
sion; — I  am  sure  of  it;  bring  me  to  the  test,  and  I  shall] 
yield.  I  despise  myself,  but  thus  I  am;  things  are  gone  too  I 
far  to  be  recalled.  \ 

"Why  is  it  that  I  am  compelled  to  this  confidence?  \ 
From  the  love  of  fame.  I  should  tremble  at  the  sight  of 
«iWy-^|)Isl6r  or  instrument  of  death  that  offered  itself  to 
my  hands;  and  perhaps  my  next  murder  may  not  be  so 
fortunate  as  those  I  have  already  committed.  I  had  no 
alternative  but  to  make  you  my  confidant  or  my  victim. 
It  was  better  to  trust  you  with  the  whole  truth  under 
every  seal  of  secrecy,  than  to  live  in  perpetual  fear  of  your 
penetration  or  '  your  rashness. 

"Do  you  know  what  it  is  you  have  done?  To  gratify 
a  foolishly  inquisitive  humour,  you  have  sold  yourself. 
You  shall  continue  in  my  service,  but  can  never  share  my 
affection.  I  will  benefit  you  in  respect  of  fortune,  but  I 
shall  always  hate  you.  If  ever  an  unguarded  word  escape 
from  your  lips,  if  ever  you  excite  my  jealousy  or  suspicion, 
expect  to  pay  for  it  by  your  death  or  worse.  It  is  a  dear 
bargain  you  have  made.  But  it  is  too  late  to  look  back. 
I  charge  and  adjure  you  by  everything  that  is  sacred,  and 
that  is  tremendous,  preserve  your  faith! 

"My  tongue  has  now  for  the  first  time  for  several  years 
spoken  the  language  of  my  heart;  and  the  intercourse  from 
this  hour  shall  be  shut  for  ever.  I  want  no  pity.  I  desire 
no  consolation.  Surrounded  as  I  am  with  horrors,  I  will 
at  least  preserve  my  fortitude  to  the  last.  If  I  had  been 
reserved  to  a  different  destiny  I  have  qualities  in  that  re- 
spect worthy  of  a  better  cause.  I  can  be  mad,  miserable, 
and  frantic;  but  even  in  phrensy  I  can  preserve  my  pres- 
ence of  mind  and  discretion." 

Such  was  the  story  I  had  been  so  desirous  to  know. 
Though  my  mind  had  brooded  upon  the  subject  for  months, 
there  was  not  a  syllable  of  it  that  did  not  come  to  my  ear 
with  the  most  perfect  sense  of  novelty.  "Mr.  Falkland 
is  a  murderer!"  said  I,  as  I  retired  from  the  conference. 


i 


170  ADVENTURES  OF 

This  dreadful  appellative,  "a  murderer,"  made  my  very 
blood  run  cold  within  me.  "He  killed  Mr.  Tyrrel,  for  he 
ronlH  not  cgnjrol  *"&  recpntrMfnt  And  agger:  he  sacrificed 
Hawfflts*  the  elder  and  Hawkins  the  younger,  because  he 
could  upon  no  terms  endure  the  public  loss  of  honour: 
how  can  I  exBeTf1  Tflat  a  man  thus  passionate  and  unrelent- 
sooner  or  later  make  me  his  victim? 


■  ■  But/'tTotwithstaftdiiig  this-  tei  rible  application  of  the  story, 
an  application  to  which  perhaps  in  some  form  or  other 
mankind  are  indebted  for  nine-tenths  of  their  abhorrence 
against  vice,  I  could  not  help  occasionally  recurring  to 
reflections  of  an  opposite  nature.  "Mr.  Falkland  is  a  mur- 
derer!" resumed  I.  "He  might  yet  be  a  most  excellent 
man,  if  he  did  but  think  so."  It  is  the  thinking  ourselves 
vicious,  then,  that  principally  contributes  to  make  us 
vicious. 

Amid  the  shock  I  received  from  finding,  what  I  had 
never  suffered  myself  constantly  to  believe,  that  my  sus- 
picions were  true,  I  still  discovered  new  cause  of  admira- 
tion for  my  master.  His  menaces  indeed  were  terrible. 
But  when  I  recollected  the  offence  I  had  given,  so  con- 
trary to  every  received  principle  of  civilized  society,  so 
insolent  and  rude,  so  intolerable  to  a  man  of  Mr.  Falkland's 
elevation,  and  in  Mr.  Falkland's  peculiarity  of  circum- 
stances, I  was  astonished  at  his  forbearance.  There  were 
indeed  sufficiently  obvious  reasons  why  he  might  not  choose 
to  proceed  to  extremities  with  me.  But  how  different  from 
the  fearful  expectations  I  had  conceived  were  the  calmness 
of  his  behaviour,  and  the  regulated  mildness  of  his  lan- 
guage! In  this  respect,  I  for  a  short  time  imagined  that 
I  was  emancipated  from  the  mischiefs  which  had  appalled 
me;  and  that,  in  having  to  do  with  a  man  of  Mr.  Falkland's 
liberality,  I  had  nothing  rigorous  to  apprehend. 

"It  is  a  miserable  prospect,"  said  I,  "that  he  holds  up 
to  me.  He  imagines  that  I  am  restrained  by  no  principles, 
and  deaf  to  the  claims  of  personal  excellence.  But  he 
shall  find  himself  mistaken.     I  will  never  become  an  in- 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  171 

former.  I  will  never  injure  my  patron;  and  therefore 
he  will  not  be  my  enemy.  With  all  his  misfortunes  and 
all  his  errors,  I  feel  that  my  soul  yearns  for  his  welfare. 
If  he  has  been  criminal,  that  is  owing  to  circumstances;  the 
same  qualities  under  other  circumstances  would  have  been, 
or  rather  were,  sublimely  beneficent." 

My  reasonings  were,  no  doubt,  infinitely  more  favourable 
to  Mr.  Falkland,  than  those  which  human  beings  are  accus- 
tomed to  make  in  the  case  of  such  as  they  style  great 
criminals.  This  will  not  be  wondered  at,  when  it  is  con- 
sidered that  I  had  myself  just  been  trampling  on  the  es- 
tablished boundaries  of  obligation,  and  therefore  might 
well  have  a  fellow-feeling  for  other  offenders.  Add  to  which, 
I  had  known  Mr.  Falkland  from  the  first  as  a  beneficent 
divinity.  I  had  observed  at  leisure,  and  with  a  minuteness 
which  could  not  deceive  me,  the  excellent  qualities  of  his 
heart;  and  I  found  him  possessed  of  a  mind  beyond  com- 
parison the  most  fertile  and  accomplished  I  had  ever  known. 

But  though  the  terrors  which  had  impressed  me  were  con- 
siderably alleviated,  my  situation  was  notwithstanding  suf- 
ficiently miserable.  The  ease  and  light-heartedness  of  my 
youth  were  for  ever  gone.  The  voice  of  an  irresistible 
necessity  had  commanded  me  to  "sleep  no  more."  I  was 
tormented  with  a  secret,  of  which  I  must  never  disburthen 
myself;  and  this  consciousness  was,  at  my  age,  a  source 
of  perpetual  melancholy.  I  had  made  myself  a  prisoner, 
in  the  most  intolerable  sense  of  that  term,  for  years — 
perhaps  for  the  rest  of  my  life.  Though  my  prudence 
and  discretion  should  be  invariable,  I  must  remember  that 
I  should  have  an  overseer,  vigilant  from  conscious  guilt, 
full  of  resentment  at  the  unjustifiable  means  by  which  I 
had  extorted  from  him  a  confession,  and  whose  lightest 
caprice  might  at  any  time  decide  upon  everything  that 
was  dear  to  me.  The  vigilance  even  of  a  public  and  sys- 
tematical despotism  is  poor,  compared  with  a  vigilance 
which  is  thus  goaded  by  the  most  anxious  passions  of  the 
soul.    Against  this  species  of  persecution  I  knew  not  how 


172 


CALEB  WILLIAMS 


to  invent  a  refuge.  I  dared  neither  fly  from  the  observation 
of  Mr.  Falkland,  nor  continue  exposed  to  its  operation. 
I  was  at  first  indeed  lulled  in  a  certain  degree  to  security 
upon  the  verge  of  the  precipice.  But  it  was  not  long  before 
I  found  a  thousand  circumstances  perpetually  reminding 
me  of  my  true  situation.  Those  I  am  now  to  relate  are 
among  the  most  memorable. 


CHAPTER  NINETEEN 

IN  no  long  time  after  the  disclosure  Mr.  Falkland  had 
made,  Mr.  Forester,  his  elder  brother  by  the  mother's 
side,  came  to  reside  for  a  short  period  in  our  family. 
This  was  a  circumstance  peculiarly  adverse  to  my  patron's 
habits  and  inclinations.  He  had  broken  off,  as  I  have 
already  said,  all  intercourse  of  visiting  with  his  neighbours. 
He  debarred  himself  every  kind  of  amusement  and  relaxa- 
tion. He  shrunk  from  the  society  of  his  fellows,  and 
thought  he  could  never  be  sufficiently  buried  in  obscurity 
and  solitude.  This  principle  was,  in  most  cases,  of  no  diffi- 
cult execution  to  a  man  of  firmness.  But  Mr.  Falkland 
knew  not  how  to  avoid  the  visit  of  Mr.  Forester.  This 
gentleman  was  just  returned  from  a  residence  of  several 
years  upon  the  Continent;  and  his  demand  of  an  apart- 
ment in  the  house  of  his  half-brother,  till  his  own  house 
at  the  distance  of  thirty  miles  should  be  prepared  for  his 
reception,  was  made  with  an  air  of  confidence  that  scarcely 
admitted  of  a  refusal.  Mr.  Falkland  could  only  allege, 
that  the  state  of  his  health  and  spirits  was  such  that  he 
feared  a  residence  at  his  house  would  be  little  agreeable  to 
his  kinsman;  and  Mr.  Forester  conceived  that  this  was  a 
disqualification  which  would  always  augment  in  proportion 
as  it  was  tolerated,  and  hoped  that  his  society,  by  inducing 
Mr.  Falkland  to  suspend  his  habits  of  seclusion,  would  be 
the  means  of  essential  benefit.  Mr.  Falkland  opposed  him 
no  further.  He  would  have  been  sorry  to  be  thought  unkind 
to  a  kinsman  for  whom  he  had  a  particular  esteem ;  and  the 
consciousness  of  not  daring  to  assign  the  true  reason,  made 
him  cautious  of  adhering  to  his  objection. 

The  character  of  Mr.  Forester  was,  in  many  respects, 
the  reverse  of  that  of  my  master.    His  very  appearance  indi- 

173 


-? 


V 


174  ADVENTURES  OF 

cated  the  singularity  of  his  disposition.  His  figure  was 
short  and  angular.  His  eyes  were  sunk  far  into  his  head, 
and  were  overhung  with  eyebrows,  black,  thick,  and  bushy. 
His  complexion  was  swarthy,  and  his  lineaments  hard.  He 
had  seen  much  of  the  world;  but,  to  judge  of  him  from 
his  appearance  and  manners,  one  would  have  thought  that 
he  had  never  moved  from  his  fireside. 

His  temper  was  acid/petulant)  and  harsh.  He  was  easily 
offended  by  trifles,  respecting  which,  previously  to  the 
offence,  the  persons  with  whom  he  had  intercourse  could 
have  no  suspicion  of  such  a  result.  When  offended,  his 
customary  behaviour  was  exceedingly  rugged.  He  thought 
only  of  setting  the  delinquent  right,  and  humbling  him  for 
his  error;  and,  in  his  eagerness  to  do  this,  overlooked  the 
sensibility  of  the  sufferer,  and  the  pains  he  inflicted.  Re- 
monstrance in  such  a  case  he  regarded  as  the  offspring  of 
cowardice,  which  was  to  be  extirpated  with  a  steady  and 
unshrinking  hand,  and  not  soothed  with  misjudging  kind- 
ness and  indulgence.  As  is  usual  in  human  character,  he 
had  formed  a  system  of  thinking  to  suit  the  current  of  his 
feelings.  He  held  that  the  kindness  we  entertain  for  a  man 
should  be  veiled  and  concealed,  exerted  in  substantial 
benefits,  but  not  disclosed,  lest  an  undue  advantage  should 
be  taken  of  it  by  its  object. 

With  this  rugged  outside,  Mr.  Forester  had  a  warm  and 
generous  heart.  At  first  sight  all  men  were  deterred  by  his 
manner,  and  excited  to  give  him  an  ill  character.  But  the 
longer  any  one  knew  him,  the  more  they  approved  him. 
His  harshness  was  then  only  considered  as  habit;  and 
strong  sense  and  active  benevolence  were  uppermost  in  the 
recollection  of  his  familiar  acquaintance.  His  conversation, 
when  he  condescended  to  lay  aside  his  snappish,  rude,  and 
abrupt  half-sentences,  became  flowing  in  diction,  and  un- 
commonly amusing  with  regard  to  its  substance.  He  com- 
bined, with  weightiness  of  expression,  a  dryness  of  charac- 
teristic humour,  that  demonstrated  at  once  the  vividness  of 
his  observation  and  the  force  of  his  understanding. 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  175 

The  peculiarities  of  this  gentleman's  character  were  not 
undisplayed  in  the  scene  to  which  he  was  now  introduced. 
Having  much  kindness  in  his  disposition,  he  soon  became 
deeply  interested  in  the  unhappiness  of  his  relation.  He 
did  everything  in  his  power  to  remove  it;  but  his  attempts 
were  rude  and  unskilful.  With  a  mind  so  accomplished  and 
a  spirit  so  susceptible  as  that  of  Mr.  Falkland,  Mr.  Forester 
did  not  venture  to  let  loose  his  usual  violence  of  manner; 
but,  if  he  carefully  abstained  from  harshness,  he  was  how- 
ever wholly  incapable  of  that  sweet  and  liquid  eloquence 
of  the  soul  which  Would  perhaps  have  stood  the  fairest 
chance  of  seducing  Mr.  Falkland  for  a  moment  to  forget  his 
anguish.  He  exhorted  his  host  to  rouse  up  his  spirit,  and 
defy  the  foul  fiend;  but  the  tone  of  his  exhortations  found 
no  sympathetic  chord  in  the  mind  of  my  patron.  He  had 
not  the  skill  to  carry  conviction  to  an  understanding  so 
well  fortified  in  error.  In  a  word,  after  a  thousand  efforts 
of  kindness  to  his  entertainer,  he  drew  off  his  forces, 
growling  and  dissatisfied  with  his  own  impotence,  rather  than 
angry  at  the  obstinacy  of  Mr.  Falkland.  He  felt  no  diminu- 
tion of  his  affection  for  him,  and  was  sincerely  grieved  to 
find  that  he  was  so  little  capable  of  serving  him.  Both 
parties  in  this  case  did  justice  to  the  merits  of  the  other; 
at  the  same  time  that  the  disparity  of  their  humours  was 
such  as  to  prevent  the  stranger  from  being  in  any  degree 
a  dangerous  companion  to  the  master  of  the  house.  They 
had  scarcely  one  point  of  contact  in  their  characters.  Mr. 
Forester  was  incapable  of  giving  Mr.  Falkland  that  degree 
either  of  pain  or  pleasure  which  can  raise  the  soul  into  a 
tumult,  and  deprive  it  for  a  while  of  tranquillity  and  self- 
command. 

Our  visiter  was  a  man,  notwithstanding  appearances,  of 
a  peculiarly  sociable  disposition,  and,  where  he  was  neither 
interrupted  nor  contradicted,  considerably  loquacious.  He 
began  to  feel  himself  painfully  out  of  his  element  upon  the 
present  occasion.  Mr.  Falkland  was  devoted  to  contempla- 
tion and  solitude.     He  put  upon  himself  some  degree  of 


176  ADVENTURES  OF 

restraint  upon  the  arrival  of  his  kinsman,  though  even  then 
his  darling  habits  would  break  out.  But  when  they  had 
seen  each  other  a  certain  number  of  times,  and  it  was  suffi- 
ciently evident  that  the  society  of  either  would  be  a  burthen 
rather  than  a  pleasure  to  the  other,  they  consented,  by  a  sort 
of  silent  compact,  that  each  should  be  at  liberty  to  follow 
his  own  inclination.  Mr.  Falkland  was,  in  a  sense,  the  great- 
est gainer  by  this.  He  returned  to  the  habits  of  his  choice, 
and  acted,  as  nearly  as  possible,  just  as  he  would  have  done 
if  Mr.  Forester  had  not  been  in  existence.  But  the  latter 
was  wholly  at  a  loss.  He  had  all  the  disadvantages  of  retire- 
ment, without  being  able,  as  he  might  have  done  at  his 
house,  to  bring  his  own  associates  or  his  own  amusements 
about  him. 

In  this  situation  he  cast  his  eyes  upon  me.  It  was  his 
principle  to  do  everything  that  his  thoughts  suggested, 
without  caring  for  the  forms  of  the  world.  He  saw  no 
reason  why  a  peasant,  with  certain  advantages  of  education 
and  opportunity,  might  not  be  as  eligible  a  companion  as 
a  lord;  at  the  same  time  that  he  was  deeply  impressed 
with  the  venerableness  of  old  institutions.  Reduced  as  he 
was  to  a  kind  of  last  resort,  he  found  me  better  qualified 
for  his  purpose  than  any  other  of  Mr.  Falkland's  house- 
hold. 

The  manner  in  which  he  began  this  sort  of  correspondence 
was  sufficiently  characteristical.  It  was  abrupt;  but  it  was 
strongly  stamped  with  essential  benevolence.  It  was  blunt 
and  humorous;  but  there  was  attractiveness,  especially  in 
a  case  of  unequal  intercourse,  in  that  very  rusticity  by  which 
he  levelled  himself  with  the  mass  of  his  species.  He  had 
to  reconcile  himself  as  well  as  to  invite  me ;  not  to  reconcile 
himself  to  the  postponing  an  aristocratical  vanity,  for  of 
that  he  had  a  very  slender  portion,  but  to  the  trouble  of 
invitation,  for  he  loved  his  ease.  All  this  produced  some 
irregularity  and  indecision  in  his  own  mind,  and  gave  a 
whimsical  impression  to  his  behaviour. 

On  my  part,  I  was  by  no  means  ungrateful  for  the  distinc- 


t 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  177 

tion  that  was  paid  me.  My  mind  had  been  relaxed  into 
temporary  dejection,  but  my  reserve  had  no  alloy  of  mo- 
roseness  or  insensibility.  It  did  not  long  hold  out  against 
the  condescending  attentions  of  Mr.  Forester.  I  became 
gradually  heedful,  encouraged,  confiding.  I  had  a  most 
eager  thirst  for  the  knowledge  of  mankind;  and  though  no 
person  perhaps  ever  purchased  so  dearly  the  instructions  he 
received  in  that  school,  the  inclination  was  in  no  degree 
diminished.  Mr.  Forester  was  the  second  man  I  had  seen 
uncommonly  worthy  of  my  analysis,  and  who  seemed  to  my 
thoughts,  arrived  as  I  was  at  the  end  of  my  first  essay, 
almost  as  much  deserving  to  be  studied  as  Mr.  Falkland 
himself.  I  was  glad  to  escape  from  the  uneasiness  of  my  re- 
flections; and,  while  engaged  with  this  new  friend,  I  forgot 
the  criticalness  of  the  evils  with  which  I  was  hourly 
menaced. 

Stimulated  by  these  feelings,  I  was  what  Mr.  Forester 
wanted,  a  diligent  and  zealous  hearer.  I  was  strongly  sus- 
ceptible of  impression;  and  the  alternate  impressions  my 
mind  received,  visibly  displayed  themselves  in  my  counte- 
nance and  gestures.  The  observations  Mr.  Forester  had 
made  in  his  travels,  the  set  of  opinions  he  had  formed,  all 
amused  and  interested  me.  His  manner  of  telling  a  story,  or 
explaining  his  thoughts,  was  forcible,  .^perspicuous,  and 
original:  his  style  in  conversation  had  an  uncommon  zest. 
Everything  he  had  to  relate  delighted  me;  while,  in  return, 
my  sympathy,  my  eager  curiosity,  and  my  unsophisticated 
passions  rendered  me  to  Mr.  Forester  a  most  desirable 
hearer.  It  is  not  to  be  wondered  at,  therefore,  that  every 
day  rendered  our  intercourse  more  intimate  and  cordial. 

Mr.  Falkland  was  destined  to  be  for  ever  unhappy;  and 
it  seemed  as  if  no  new  incident  could  occur  from  which  he 
was  not  able  to  extract  food  for  this  imperious  propensity. 
He  was  wearied  with  a  perpetual  repetition  of  similar  im- 
pressions; and  entertained  an  invincible  disgust  against  all 
that  was  new.  The  visit  of  Mr.  Forester  he  regarded  with 
antipathy.     He  was  scarcely  able  to  look  at  him  without 


178  ADVENTURES  OF 

shuddering;  an  emotion  which  his  guest  perceived,  and 
pitied  as  the  result  of  habit  and  disease,  rather  than  of 
judgment.  None  of  his  actions  passed  unremarked;  the 
most  indifferent  excited  uneasiness  and  apprehension.  The 
first  overtures  of  intimacy  between  me  and  Mr.  Forester 
probably  gave  birth  to  sentiments  of  jealousy  in  the  mind 
of  my  master.  The  irregular,  variable  character  of  his 
visiter  tended  to  heighten  them,  by  producing  an  appearance 
of  inexplicableness  and  mystery.  At  this  time  he  intimated 
to  me  that  it  was  not  agreeable  to  him  that  there  should 
be  much  intercourse  between  me  and  this  gentleman. 

What  could  I  do?  Young  as  I  was,  could  it  be  expected 
that  I  should  play  the  philosopher,  and  put  a  perpetual 
curb  upon  my  inclinations?  Imprudent  though  I  had 
been,  could  I  voluntarily  subject  myself  to  an  eternal 
penance  and  estrangement  from  human  society?  Could  I 
discourage  a  frankness  so  perfectly  in  consonance  with  my 
wishes,  and  receive  in  an  ungracious  way  a  kindness  that 
stole  away  my  heart? 

Besides  this,  I  was  but  ill  prepared  for  the  servile  sub- 
mission Mr.  Falkland  demanded.  In  early  life  I  had  been 
accustomed  to  be  much  my  own  master.  When  I  first 
entered  into  Mr.  Falkland's  service,  my  personal  habits 
were  checked  by  the  novelty  of  my  situation,  and  my 
affections  were  gained  by  the  high  accomplishments  of  my 
patron.  To  novelty  and  its  influence,  curiosity  had  suc- 
ceeded: curiosity,  so  long  as  it  lasted,  was  a  principle 
stronger  in  my  bosom  than  even  the  love  of  independence. 
To  that  I  would  have  sacrificed  my  liberty  or  my  life;  to 
gratify  it,  I  would  have  submitted  to  the  condition  of  a 
West  Indian  negro,  or  to  the  tortures  inflicted  by  North 
American  savages.  But  the  turbulence  of  curiosity  had  now 
subsided. 

As  long  as  the  threats  of  Mr.  Falkland  had  been  con- 
fined to  generals,  I  endured  it.  I  was  conscious  of  the  un- 
becoming action  I  had  committed,  and  this  rendered  me 
humble.     But   when  he  went   further,   and  undertook  to 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  179 

prescribe  to  every  article  of  my  conduct,  my  patience  was  at 
an  end.  My  mind,  before  sufficiently  sensible  to  the  un- 
fortunate situation  to  which  my  imprudence  had  reduced 
me,  now  took  a  nearer  and  a  more  alarming  view  of  the 
circumstances  of  the  case.  Mr.  Falkland  was  not  an  old 
man;  he  had  in  him  the  principles  of  vigour,  however  they 
might  seem  to  be  shaken;  he  might  live  as  long  as  I 
should.  I  was  his  prisoner;  and  what  a  prisoner!  All  my 
actions  observed;  all  my  gestures  marked.  I  could  move 
neither  to  the  right  nor  the  left,  but  the  eye  of  my  keeper 
was  upon  me.  He  watched  me,  and  his  vigilance  was  a 
sickness  to  my  heart.  For  me  there  was  no  more  freedom, 
no  more  of  hilarity,  of  thoughtlessness,  or  of  youth.  Was 
this  the  life  upon  which  I  had  entered  with  such  warm  and 
sanguine  expectation?  Were  my  days  to  be  wasted  in  this 
cheerless  gloom;  a  galley-slave  in  the  hands  of  the  system 
of  nature,  whom  death  only,  the  death  of  myself  or  my  in- 
exorable superior,  could  free? 

I  had  been  adventurous  in  the  gratification  of  an  in- 
fantine and  unreasonable  curiosity;  and  I  resolved  not  to  be 
less  adventurous,  if  need  were,  in  the  defence  of  everything 
that  can  make  life  a  blessing.  I  was  prepared  for  an 
amicable  adjustment  of  interests:  I  would  undertake  that 
Mr.  Falkland  should  never  sustain  injury  through  my 
means;  but  I  expected  in  return  that  I  should  suffer  no 
encroachment,  but  be  left  to  the  direction  of  my  own  un- 
derstanding. 

I  went  on,  then,  to  seek  Mr.  Forester's  society  with 
eagerness;  and  it  is  the  nature  of  an  intimacy  that  does  not 
decline,  progressively  to  increase.  Mr.  Falkland  observed 
these  symptoms  with  visible  perturbation.  Whenever  I  was 
conscious  of  their  being  perceived  by  him,  I  betrayed  tokens 
of  confusion:  this  did  not  tend  to  allay  his  uneasiness. 
One  day  he  spoke  to  me  alone;  and,  with  a  look  of  myste- 
rious but  terrible  import,  expressed  himself  thus: — 

"Young  man,  take  warning!  Perhaps  this  is  the  last  time 
you  shall  have  an   opportunity  to   take  it!      I  will  not 


180  ADVENTURES  OF 

always  be  the  butt  of  your  simplicity  and  inexperience,  nor 
suffer  your  weakness  to  triumph  over  my  strength!  Why 
do  you  trifle  with  me?  You  little  suspect  the  extent  of 
my  power.  At  this  moment  you  are  enclosed  with  the  snares 
of  my  vengeance  unseen  by  you,  and,  at  the  instant  that 
you  flatter  yourself  you  are  already  beyond  their  reach,  they 
will  close  upon  you.  You  might  as  well  think  of  escaping 
from  the  power  of  the  omnipresent  God,  as  from  mine! 
If  you  could  touch  so  much  as  my  finger,  you  should  expiate 
it  in  hours  and  months  and  years  of  a  torment,  of  which 
as  yet  you  have  not  the  remotest  idea.  Remember!  I  am 
not  talking  at  random !  I  do  not  utter  a  word  that,  if  you 
provoke  me,  shall  not  be  executed  to  the  severest  letter! " 

It  may  be  supposed  that  these  menaces  were  not  without 
their  effect.  I  withdrew  in  silence.  My  whole  soul  re- 
volted against  the  treatment  I  endured,  and  yet  I  could  not 
utter  a  word.  Why  could  not  I  speak  the  expostulations 
of  my  heart,  or  propose  the  compromise  I  meditated?  It 
was  inexperience,  and  not  want  of  strength  that  awed  me. 
Every  act  of  Mr.  Falkland  contained  something  new,  and 
I  was  unprepared  to  meet  it.  Perhaps  it  will  bs  found  that 
the  greatest  hero  owes  the  propriety  of  his  conduct  to  the 
habit  of  encountering  difficulties,  and  calling  out  with 
promptness  the  energies  of  his  mind. 

I  contemplated  the  proceedings  of  my  patron  with  the 
deepest  astonishment.  Humanity  and  general  kindness 
were  fundamental  parts  of  his  character;  but  in  relation  to 
me  they  were  sterile  and  inactive.  His  own  interest  required 
that  he  should  purchase  my  kindness;  but  he  preferred  to 
govern  me  by  terror,  and  watch  me  with  unceasing  anxiety. 
I  ruminated  with  the  most  mournful  sensations  upon  the 
nature  of  my  calamity.  I  believed  that  no  human  being  was 
ever  placed  in  a  situation  so  pitiable  as  mine.  Every  atom 
of  my  frame  seemed  to  have  a  several  existence,  and  to 
crawl  within  me.  I  had  but  too  much  reason  to  believe  that 
Mr.  Falkland's  threats  were  not  empty  words.  I  knew  his 
ability;  I  felt  his  ascendency.  If  I  encountered  him,  what 
chance  had  I  of  victory?    If  I  were  defeated,  what  was  the 


I 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  181 

penalty  I  had  to  suffer?  Well,  then,  the  rest  of  my  life  must 
be  devoted  to  slavish  subjection.  Miserable  sentence!  And, 
if  it  were,  what  security  had  I  against  the  injustice  of  a 
man,  vigilant,  capricious,  and  criminal?  I  envied  the  con- 
demned wretch  upon  the  scaffold;  I  envied  the  victim  of 
the  Inquisition  in  the  midst  of  his  torture.  They  know 
what  they  have  to  suffer.  I  had  only  to  imagine  every- 
thing terrible,  and  then  say,  "The  fate  reserved  for  me  is 
worse  than  this!" 

It  was  well  for  me  that  these  sensations  were  transient: 
human  nature  could  not  long  support  itself  under  what  I 
then  felt.  By  degrees  my  mind  shook  off  its  burthen.  In- 
dignation succeeded  to  emotions  of  terror.  The  hostility  of 
Mr.  Falkland  excited  hostility  in  me.  I  determined  I  would 
never  calumniate  Jiim  in  matters  of  the  most  trivial  import, 
much  less  betray  the  grand  secret  upon  which  everything 
dear  to  him  depended.  But,  totally  abjuring  the  offensive, 
I  resolved  to  stand  firmly  upon  the  defensive.  The  liberty 
of  acting  as  I  pleased  I  would  preserve,  whatever  might  be 
the  risk.  If  I  were  worsted  in  the  contest,  I  would  at  least 
have  the  consolation  of  reflecting  that  I  had  exerted  myself 
with  energy.  In  proportion  as  I  thus  determined,  I  drew 
off  my  forces  from  petty  incursions,  and  felt  the  propriety  of 
acting  with  premeditation  and  system.  I  ruminated  inces- 
santly upon  plans  of  deliverance,  but  I  was  anxious  that  my 
choice  should  not  be  precipitately  made. 

It  was  during  this  period  of  my  deliberation  and  uncer- 
tainty that  Mr.  Forester  terminated  his  visit.  He  observed 
a  strange  distance  in  my  behaviour,  and,  in  his  good- 
natured,  rough  way,  reproached  me  for  it.  I  could  only 
answer  with  a  gloomy  look  of  mysterious  import,  and  a 
mournful  and  expressive  silence.  He  sought  me  for  an 
explanation,  but  I  was  now  as  ingenious  in  avoiding  as  I 
had  before  been  ardent  to  seek  him;  and  he  quitted  our 
house,  as  he  afterward  told  me,  with  an  impression  that 
there  was  some  ill  destiny  that  hung  over  it,  which  seemed 
fated  to  make  all  its  inhabitants  miserable,  without  its 
being  possible  for  a  bystander  to  penetrate  the  reason. 


CHAPTER  TWENTY 

MR.  FORESTER  had  left  us  about  three  weeks,  when 
Mr.  Falkland  sent  me  upon  some  business  to  an 
estate  he  possessed  in  a  neighbouring  county,  about 
fifty  miles  from  his  principal  residence.  The  road  led  in  a 
direction  wholly  wide  of  the  habitation  of  our  late  visiter. 
I  was  upon  my  return  from  the  place  to  which  I  had  been 
sent,  when  I  began  in  fancy  to  take  a  survey  of  the  various 
circumstances  of  my  condition,  and  by  degrees  lost,  in  the 
profoundness  of  my  contemplation,  all  attention  to  the  sur- 
rounding objects.  The  first  determination  of  my  mind  was 
to  escape  from  the  lynx-eyed  jealousy  and  despotism  of 
Mr.  Falkland;  the  second  to  provide,  by  every  effort  of 
prudence  and  deliberation  I  could  devise,  against  the  danger 
with  which  I  well  knew  my  attempt  must  be  accompanied. 
Occupied  with  these  meditations,  I  rode  many  miles  before 
I  perceived  that  I  had  totally  deviated  from  the  right  path. 
At  length  I  roused  myself,  and  surveyed  the  horizon  round 
me;  but  I  could  observe  nothing  with  which  my  organ  was 
previously  acquainted.  On  three  sides,  the  heath  stretched 
as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach;  on  the  fourth,  I  discovered 
at  some  distance  a  wood  of  no  ordinary  dimensions.  Before 
me,  scarcely  a  single  track  could  be  found,  to  mark  that  any 
human  being  had  ever  visited  the  spot.  As  the  best  expedi- 
ent I  could  devise,  I  bent  my  course  towards  the  wood  I  have 
mentioned,  and  then  pursued,  as  well  as  I  was  able,  the 
windings  of  the  enclosure.  This  led  me,  after  some  time, 
to  the  end  of  the  heath ;  but  I  was  still  as  much  at  a  loss  as 
ever  respecting  the  road  I  should  pursue.  The  sun  was 
hid  from  me  by  a  gray  and  cloudy  atmosphere;  I  was  in- 
duced to  continue  along  the  skirts  of  the  wood,  and  sur- 
mounted with  some  difficulty  the  hedges  and  other  obstacles 

182 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  183 

that  from  time  to  time  presented  themselves.  My  thoughts 
were  gloomy  and  disconsolate ;  the  dreariness  of  the  day,  and 
the  solitude  which  surrounded  me,  seemed  to  communicate 
a  sadness  to  my  soul.  I  had  proceeded  a  considerable  way, 
and  was  overcome  with  hunger  and  fatigue,  when  I  dis- 
covered a  road  and  a  little  inn  at  no  great  distance.  I 
made  up  to  them,  and  upon  inquiry  found  that,  instead  of 
pursuing  the  proper  direction,  I  had  taken  one  that  led  to 
Mr.  Forester's  rather  than  to  my  own  habitation.  I 
alighted,  and  was  entering  the  house,  when  the  appearance 
of  that  gentleman  struck  my  eyes. 

Mr.  Forester  accosted  me  with  kindness,  invited  me  into 
the  room  where  he  had  been  sitting,  and  inquired  what  acci- 
dent had  brought  me  to  that  place. 

While  he  was  speaking,  I  could  not  help  recollecting  the 
extraordinary  manner  in  which  we  were  thus  once  more 
brought  together,  and  a  train  of  ideas  was  by  this  means 
suggested  to  my  mind.  Some  refreshment  was,  by  Mr. 
Forester's  order,  prepared  for  me;  I  sat  down,  and  partook 
of  it.  Still  this  thought  dwelt  upon  my  recollection: — "Mr. 
Falkland  will  never  be  made  acquainted  with  our  meeting; 
I  have  an  opportunity  thrown  in  my  way,  which  if  I  do  not 
improve,  I  shall  deserve  all  the  consequences  that  may  re- 
sult. I  can  now  converse  with  a  friend,  and  a  powerful 
friend,  without  fear  of  being  watched  and  overlooked." 
What  wonder  that  I  was  tempted  to  disclose,  not  Mr.  Falk- 
land's secret,  but  my  own  situation,  and  receive  the  advice 
of  a  man  of  worth  and  experience,  which  might  perhaps 
be  adequately  done  without  entering  into  any  detail  injurious 
to  my  patron? 

Mr.  Forester,  on  his  part,  expressed  a  desire  to  learn  why 
it  was  I  thought  myself  unhappy,  and  why  I  had  avoided 
him  during  the  latter  part  of  his  residence  under  the  same 
roof,  as  evidently  as  I  had  before  taken  pleasure  in  his  com- 
munications. I  replied,  that  I  could  give  him  but  an  im- 
perfect satisfaction  upon  these  points;  but  what  I  could, 
I  would  willingly  explain.    The   fact,  I   proceeded,   was, 


1 84  ADVENTURES  OF 

that  there  were  reasons  which  rendered  it  impossible  for 
me  to  have  a  tranquil  moment  under  the  roof  of  Mr. 
Falkland.  I  had  revolved  the  matter  again  and  again  in 
my  mind,  and  was  finally  convinced  that  I  owed  it  to  my- 
self to  withdraw  from  his  service.  I  added,  that  I  was 
sensible,  by  this  half-confidence,  I  might  rather  seem  to 
merit  the  disapprobation  of  Mr.  Forester  than  his  counte- 
nance; but  I  declared  my  persuasion,  that  if  he  could  be 
acquainted  with  the  whole  affair,  however  strange  my  be- 
haviour might  at  present  appear,  he  would  applaud  my  re- 
serve. 

He  appeared  to  muse  for  a  moment  upon  what  I  had  said, 
and  then  asked  what  reason  I  could  have  to  complain  of 
Mr.  Falkland?  I  replied,  that  I  entertained  the  deepest 
reverence  for  my  patron;  I  admired  his  abilities,  and  con- 
sidered him  as  formed  for  the  benefit  of  his  species.  I  should 
in  my  own  opinion  be  the  vilest  of  miscreants  if  I  uttered  a 
whisper  to  his  disadvantage.  But  this  did  not  avail :  I  was 
not  fit  for  him;  perhaps  I  was  not  good  enough  for  him;  at 
all  events,  I  must  be  perpetually  miserable  so  long  as  I  con- 
tinued to  live  with  him. 

I  observed  Mr.  Forester  gaze  upon  me  eagerly  with  curi- 
osity and  surprise;  but  this  circumstance  I  did  not  think 
proper  to  notice.  Having  recovered  himself,  he  inquired, 
why  then,  that  being  the  case,  I  did  not  quit  his  service?  I 
answered,  what  he  now  touched  upon  was  that  which  most  of 
all  contributed  to  my  misfortune.  Mr.  Falkland  was  not 
ignorant  of  my  dislike  to  my  present  situation;  perhaps  he 
thought  it  unreasonable,  unjust;  but  I  knew  that  he  would 
never  be  brought  to  consent  to  my  giving  way  to  it. 

Here  Mr.  Forester  interrupted  me,  and,  smiling,  said  I 
magnified  obstacles,  and  overrated  my  own  importance;  add- 
ing, that  he  would  undertake  to  remove  that  difficulty,  as 
well  as  to  provide  me  with  a  more  agreeable  appointment. 
This  suggestion  produced  in  me  a  serious  alarm.  I  replied, 
that  I  must  entreat  him  upon  no  account  to  think  of  apply- 
ing to  Mr.  Falkland  upon  the  subject.    I  added,  that  per- 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  185 

haps  I  was  only  betraying  my  imbecility;  but,  in  reality, 
unacquainted  as  I  was  with  experience  and  the  world,  I 
was  afraid,  though  disgusted  wtih  my  present  residence,  to 
expose  myself,  upon  a  mere  project  of  my  own,  to  the  re- 
sentment of  so  considerable  a  man  as  Mr.  Falkland.  If  he 
would  favour  me  with  his  advice  upon  the  subject,  or  if  he 
would  only  give  me  leave  to  hope  for  his  protection  in  case 
of  any  unforeseen  accident,  this  was  all  I  presumed  to  re- 
quest; and,  thus  encouraged,  I  would  venture  to  obey  the 
dictates  of  my  inclination,  and  fly  in  pursuit  of  my  lost 
tranquillity. 

Having  thus  opened  myself  to  this  generous  friend,  as  far 
as  I  could  do  it  with  propriety  and  safety,  he  sat  for  some 
time  silent,  with  an  air  of  deep  reflection.  At  length,  with  a 
countenance  of  unusual  severity,  and  a  characteristic  fierce- 
ness of  manner  and  voice,  he  thus  addressed  me:  " Young 
man,  perhaps  you  are  ignorant  of  the  nature  of  the  conduct 
you  at  present  hold.  Maybe  you  do  not  know  that  where 
there  is  mystery,  there  is  always  something  at  bottom  that 
will  not  bear  the  telling.  Is  this  the  way  to  obtain  the 
favour  of  a  man  of  consequence  and  respectability?  To  pre- 
tend to  make  a  confidence,  and  then  tell  him  a  disjointed 
story  that  has  not  common  sense  in  it!" 

I  answered,  that,  whatever  were  the  amount  of  that  prej- 
udice, I  must  submit.  I  placed  my  hope  of  a  candid  con- 
struction, in  the  present  instance,  in  the  rectitude  of  his 
nature. 

He  went  on:  "You  do  so;  do  you?  I  tell  you,  sir,  the 
rectitude  of  my  nature  is  an  enemy  to  disguise.  Come, 
boy,  you  must  know  that  I  understand  these  things  better 
than  you.  Tell  all,  or  expect  nothing  from  me  but  censure 
and  contempt." 

"Sir,"  replied  I,  "I  have  spoken  from  deliberation;  I  have 
told  you  my  choice,  and,  whatever  be  the  result,  I  must 
abide  by  it.  If  in  this  misfortune  you  refuse  me  your 
assistance,  here  I  must  end,  having  gained  by  the  communi- 
cation only  your  ill  opinion  and  displeasure." 


1 86  ADVENTURES  OF 

He  looked  hard  at  me,  as  if  he  would  see  me  through. 
At  length  he  relaxed  his  features,  and  softened  his  manner. 
"You  are  a  foolish,  headstrong  boy,"  said  he,  "and  I  shall 
have  an  eye  upon  you.  I  shall  never  place  in  you  the 
confidence  I  have  done.  But — I  will  not  desert  you.  At 
present,  the  balance  between  approbation  and  dislike  is  in 
your  favour.  How  long  it  will  last  I  cannot  tell;  I  engage 
for  nothing.  But  it  is  my  rule  to  act  as  I  feel.  I  will  for 
this  time  do  as  you  require; — and,  pray  God,  it  may  answer. 
I  will  receive  you,  either  now  or  hereafter,  under  my  roof, 
trusting  that  I  shall  have  no  reason  to  repent,  and  that  ap- 
pearances will  terminate  as  favourably  as  I  wish,  though  I 
scarcely  know  how  to  hope  it." 

We  were  engaged  in  the  earnest  discussion  of  subjects 
thus  interesting  to  my  peace,  when  we  were  interrupted  by 
an  event  the  most  earnestly  to  have  been  deprecated.  With- 
out the  smallest  notice,  and  as  if  he  had  dropped  upon  us 
from  the  clouds,  Mr.  Falkland  burst  into  the  room.  I  found 
afterward  that  Mr.  Forester  had  come  thus  far  upon  an 
appointment  to  meet  Mr.  Falkland,  and  that  the  place  of 
their  intended  rendezvous  was  at  the  next  stage.  Mr.  For- 
ester was  detained  at  the  inn  where  we  now  were  by  our 
accidental  rencounter,  and  in  reality  had  for  the  moment 
forgotten  his  appointment;  while  Mr.  Falkland,  not  finding 
him  where  he  expected,  proceeded  thus  far  towards  the  house 
of  his  kinsman.  To  me  the  meeting  was  the  most  unaccount- 
able in  the  world. 

I  instantly  foresaw  the  dreadful  complication  of  misfor- 
tune that  was  included  in  this  event.  To  Mr.  Falkland,  the 
meeting  between  me  and  his  relation  must  appear  not  acci- 
dental, but,  on  my  part  at  least,  the  result  of  design.  I 
was  totally  out  of  the  road  I  had  been  travelling  by  his 
direction;  I  was  in  a  road  that  led  directly  to  the  house  of 
Mr.  Forester.  What  must  he  think  of  this?  How  must  he 
suppose  I  came  to  that  place?  The  truth,  if  told,  that  I 
came  there  without  design,  and  purely  in  consequence  of 


CALEB  WILLIAMS 

having  lost  my  way,  must  appear  to  be  the  most  palpable 
lie  that  ever  was  devised. 

Here  then  I  stood  detected  in  the  fact  of  that  inter- 
course which  had  been  so  severely  forbidden.  But  in  this  in- 
stance it  was  infinitely  worse  than  in  those  which  had 
already  given  so  much  disturbance  to  Mr.  Falkland.  It  was 
then  frank  and  unconcealed;  and  therefore  the  presumption 
was,  that  it  was  for  purposes  that  required  no  concealment. 
But  the  present  interview,  if  concerted,  was  in  the  most 
emphatical  degree  clandestine:  Nor  was  it  less  perilous  than 
it  was  clandestine! "TTThad  been  forbidden  with  the  most 
dreadful  menaces;  and  Mr.  Falkland  was  not  ignorant  how 
deep  an  impression  those  menaces  had  made  upon  my 
imagination.  Such  a  meeting,  therefore,  could  not  have  been 
concerted,  under  such  circumstances,  for  a  trivial  purpose, 
or  for  any  purpose  that  his  heart  did  not  ache  to  think  of. 
Such  was  the  amount  of  my  crime,  such  was  the  agony 
my  appearance  was  calculated  to  inspire ;  and  it  was  reason- 
able to  suppose  that  the  penalty  I  had  to  expect  would  be 
proportionable.  The  threats  of  Mr.  Falkland  still  sounded 
in  my  ears,  and  I  was  in  a  transport  of  terror. 

The  conduct  of  the  same  man  in  different  circumstances 
is  often  so  various  as  to  render  it  very  difficult  to  be 
accounted  for.  Mr.  Falkland,  in  this  to  him  terrible  crisis, 
did  not  seem  to  be  in  any  degree  hurried  away  by  passion. 
For  a  moment  he  was  dumb,  his  eyes  glared  with  astonish- 
ment; and  the  next  moment,  as  it  were,  he  had  the  most 
perfect  calmness  and  self-command.  Had  it  been  otherwise, 
I  have  no  doubt  that  I  should  instantly  have  entered  into 
an  explanation  of  the  manner  in  which  I  came  there,  the 
ingenuousness  and  consistency  of  which  could  not  but  have 
been  in  some  degree  attended  with  a  favourable  event.  But, 
as  it  was,  I  suffered  myself  to  be  overcome;  I  yielded,  as  in  a 
former  instance,  to  the  discomfiting  influence  of  surprise.  I 
dared  scarcely  breathe;  I  observed  the  appearances  with 
equal  anxiety  and  surprise.    Mr.  Falkland  quietly  ordered 


1 88  ADVENTURES  OF 

me  to  return  home,  and  take  along  with  me  the  groom  he 
had  brought  with  him.    I  obeyed  in  silence. 

I  afterward  understood,  that  he  inquired  minutely  of 
Mr.  Forester  the  circumstances  of  our  meeting;  and  that 
that  gentleman,  perceiving  that  the  meeting  itself  was  dis- 
covered, and  guided  by  habits  of  frankness,  which,  when 
once  rooted  in  a  character,  it  is  difficult  to  counteract,  told 
Mr.  Falkland  everything  that  had  passed,  together  with 
the  remarks  it  had  suggested  to  his  own  mind.  Mr.  Falk- 
land received  the  communication  with  an  ambiguous  and 
studied  silence,  which  by  no  means  operated  to  my  advan- 
tage in  the  already  poisoned  mind  of  Mr.  Forester,  His 
silence  was  partly  the  direct  consequence  of  a  mind  watchful, 
inquisitive,  and  doubting;  and  partly  perhaps  was  adopted 
for  the  sake  of  the  effect  it  was  calculated  to  produce,  Mr. 
Falkland  not  being  unwilling  to  encourage  prejudices  against 
a  character  which  might  one  day  come  in  competition  with 
his  own. 

As  to  me,  I  went  home  indeed,  for  this  was  not  a  moment 
to  resist.  Mr.  Falkland,  with  a  premeditation  to  which  he 
had  given  the  appearance  of  accident,  had  taken  care  to 
send  with  me  a  guard  to  attend  upon  his  prisoner.  I  seemed 
as  if  conducting  to  one  of  those  fortresses,  famed  in  the 
history  of  despotism,  from  which  the  wretched  victim  is 
never  known  to  come  forth  alive;  and  when  I  entered  my 
chamber,  I  felt  as  if  I  were  entering  a  dungeon.  I  reflected 
that  I  was  at  the  mercy  of  a  man,  exasperated  at  my  dis- 
obedience, and  who  was  already  formed  to  cruelty  by  suc- 
cessive murders.  My  prospects  were  now  closed ;  I  was  cut 
off  for  ever  from  pursuits  that  I  had  meditated  with  in- 
effable delight ;  my  death  might  be  the  event  of  a  few  hours. 
I  was  a  victim  at  the  shrine  of  conscious  guilt,  that  knew 
neither  rest  nor  satiety;  I  should  be  blotted  from  the  cata- 
logue of  the  living,  and  my  fate  remain  eternally  a  secret; 
the  man  who  added  my  murder  to  his  former  crimes  would 
show  himself  the  next  morning,  and  be  hailed  with  the  ad- 
miration and  applause  of  his  species. 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  189 

In  the  midst  of  these  terrible  imaginations,  one  idea  pre- 
sented itself  that  alleviated  my  feelings.  This  was  the  recol- 
lection of  the  strange  and  unaccountable  tranquillity  which 
Mr.  Falkland  had  manifested  when  he  discovered  me  in  com- 
pany with  Mr.  Forester.  I  was  not  deceived  by  this.  I 
knew  that  the  calm  was  temporary,  and  would  be  succeeded 
by  a  tumult  and  whirlwind  of  the  most  dreadful  sort.  But 
a  man  under  the  power  of  such  terrors  as  now  occupied  me 
catches  at  every  reed.  I  said  to  myself,  "This  tranquillity 
is  a  period  it  is  incumbent  upon  me  to  improve;  the  shorter 
its  duration  may  be  found,  the  more  speedy  am  I  obliged  to 
be  in  the  use  of  it."  In  a  word,  I  took  the  resolution,  be- 
cause I  already  stood  in  fear  of  the  vengeance  of  Mr. 
Falkland,  to  risk  the  possibility  of  provoking  it  in  a  degree 
still  more  inexpiable,  and  terminate  at  once  my  present 
state  of  uncertainty.  I  had  now  opened  my  case  to  Mr. 
Forester,  and  he  had  given  me  positive  assurances  of  his 
protection.  I  determined  immediately  to  address  the  follow- 
ing letter  to  Mr.  Falkland.  The  consideration,  that  if  he 
meditated  anything  tragical,  such  a  letter  would  only  tend 
to  confirm  him,  did  not  enter  into  the  present  feelings  of 
my  mind. 

"Sir: 

"I  have  conceived  the  intention  of  quitting  your  service. 
This  is  a  measure  we  ought  both  of  us  to  desire.  I  shall 
then  be,  what  it  is  my  duty  to  be,  master  of  my  own  actions. 
You  will  be  delivered  from  the  presence  of  a  person  whom 
you  cannot  prevail  upon  yourself  to  behold  without  unpleas- 
ing  emotions. 

"Why  should  you  subject  me  to  an  eternal  penance? 
Why  should  you  consign  my  youthful  hopes  to  suffering  and 
despair?  Consult  the  principles  of  humanity  that  have 
marked  the  general  course  of  your  proceedings,  and  do  not 
let  me,  I  entreat  you,  be  made  the  subject  of  a  useless 
severity.  My  heart  is  impressed  with  gratitude  for  your 
favours.     I  sincerely  ask  your  forgiveness  for  the  many      \ 


i go  ADVENTURES  OF 

errors  of  my  conduct.    I  consider  the  treatment  I  have  re- 
ceived under  your  roof  as  one  almost  uninterrupted  scene  of 
kindness  and  generosity.     I  shall  never  forget  my  obliga- 
tions to  you,  and  will  never  betray  them. 
"I  remain,  sir, 

"Your  most  grateful,  respectful, 
"and  dutiful  servant, 

"Caleb  Williams." 

Such  was  my  employment  of  the  evening  of  a  day  which 
will  be  ever  memorable  in  the  history  of  my  life.  Mr. 
Falkland  not  being  yet  returned,  though  expected  every 
hour,  I  was  induced  to  make  use  of  the  pretence  of  fatigue 
to  avoid  an  interview.  I  went  to  bed.  It  may  be  imagined 
that  my  slumbers  were  neither  deep  nor  refreshing. 

The  next  morning  I  was  informed  that  my  patron  did  not 
come  home  till  late;  that  he  had  inquired  for  me,  and, 
being  told  that  I  was  in  bed,  had  said  nothing  further  upon 
the  subject.  Satisfied  in  this  respect,  I  went  to  the  break- 
fasting-parlour,  and,  though  full  of  anxiety  and  trepidation, 
endeavoured  to  busy  myself  in  arranging  the  books,  and  a 
few  other  little  occupations,  till  Mr.  Falkland  should  come 
down.  After  a  short  time  I  heard  his  step,  which  I  per- 
fectly well  knew  how  to  distinguish,  in  the  passage.  Pre- 
sently he  stopped,  and  speaking  to  some  one  in  a  sort  of 
deliberate  but  smothered  voice,  I  overheard  him  repeat  my 
name  as  inquiring  for  me.  In  conformity  to  the  plan  I  had 
persuaded  myself  to  adopt,  I  now  laid  the  letter  I  had 
written  upon  the  table  at  which  he  usually  sat,  and  made 
my  exit  at  one  door  as  Mr.  Falkland  entered  the  other.  This 
done,  I  withdrew,  with  flutterings  and  palpitation,  to  a 
private  apartment,  a  sort  of  light  closet  at  the  end  of  the 
library,  where  I  was  accustomed  not  unfrequently  to  sit. 

I  had  not  been  here  three  minutes  when  I  heard  the  voice 
of  Mr.  Falkland  calling  me.  I  went  to  him  in  the  library. 
His  manner  was  that  of  a  man  labouring  with  some  dread- 
ful thought,  and  endeavouring  to  give  an  air  of  carelessness 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  191 

and  insensibility  to  his  behaviour.  Perhaps  no  carriage  of 
any  other  sort  could  have  produced  a  sensation  of  such  in- 
explicable horror,  or  have  excited  in  the  person  who  was 
its  object  such  anxious  uncertainty  about  the  event. — "That 
is  your  letter,"  said  he,  throwing  it. 

"My  lad,"  continued  he,  "I  believe  now  you  have  played 
all  your  tricks,  and  the  farce  is  nearly  at  an  end !  With  your 
apishness  and  absurdity,  however,  you  have  taught  me  one 
thing;  and  whereas  before  I  have  winced  at  them  with  tor- 
ture, I  am  now  as  tough  as  an  elephant.  I  shall  crush 
you  in  the  end  with  the  same  indifference  that  I  would  any 
other  little  insect  that  disturbed  my  serenity. 

"I  am  unable  to  tell  what  brought  about  your  meeting 
with  Mr.  Forester  yesterday.  It  might  be  design;  it  might 
be  accident.  But  I  shall  not  forget  it.  You  write  me  here 
that  you  are  desirous  to  quit  my  service.  To  that  I  have  a 
short  answer:  you  never  shall  quit  it  with  life.  If  you 
attempt  it,  you  shall  never  cease  to  rue  your  folly  as  long 
as  you  exist.  That  is  my  will ;  and  I  will  not  have  it  resisted. 
The  very  next  time  you  disobey  me  in  that  or  any  other 
article,  there  is  an  end  of  your  vagaries  for  ever.  Perhaps 
your  situation  may  be  a  pitiable  one;  it  is  for  you  to  look 
to  that.  I  only  know  that  it  is  in  your  power  to  prevent  its 
growing  worse;  no  time  nor  chance  shall  ever  make  it  better. 

"Do  not  imagine  I  am  afraid  of  you!  I  wear  an  armour 
against  which  all  your  weapons  are  impotent.    I  have  dug  a 

pit  fnrvmi;  anfl  whir*—  ™  ™»y™"  —    twlflf70^  ™  ^I'j^f 

stjUJ  If  once  you  fall,  call  as  loud  as  you  will,  no  man  on 
earth  shall  hear  your  cries;  prepare  a  tale  however  plausible, 
or  however  true,  the  whole  world  shall  execrate  you  for  an 
impostor.  Your  innocence  shall  be  of  no  service  to  you;  I 
laugh  at  so  feeble  a  defence.  It  is  I  that  say  it;  you  may 
believe  what  I  tell  you. — Do  you  not  know,  miserable 
wretch! "  added  he,  suddenly  altering  his  tone,  and  stamping 
upon  the  ground  with  fury,  "that  I  have  sworn  to  preserve 
my  reputation,  whatever  be  the  expense;  that  I  love  it  more 


V 


192  ADVENTURES  OF 

than  the  whole  world  and  its  inhabitants  taken  together? 
And  do  you  think  that  you  shall  wound  it?  Begone,  mis- 
creant! reptile!  and  cease  to  contend  with  insurmountable 
power!" 

The  part  of  my  history  which  I  am  now  relating  is  that 
which  I  reflect  upon  with  the  least  complacency.  Why  was 
it  that  I  was  once  more  totally  overcome  by  the  imperious 
carriage  of  Mr.  Falkland,  and  unable  to  utter  a  word?  The 
reader  will  be  presented  with  many  occasions  in  the  sequel, 
in  which  I  wanted  neither  facility  in  the  invention  of  ex- 
pedients, nor  fortitude  in  entering  upon  my  justification. 
Persecution  at  length  gave  firmness  to  my  character,  and 
taught  me  the  better  part  of  manhood.  But  in  the  present 
instance  I  was  irresolute,  overawed,  and  abashed. 

The  speech  I  had  heard  was  the  dictate  of  phrensy,  and 
it  created  in  me  a  similar  phrensy.  It  determined  me  to 
do  the  very  thing  against  which  I  was  thus  solemnly  warned, 
and  fly  from  my  patron's  house.  I  could  not  enter  into 
parley  with  him;  I  could  no  longer  endure  the  vile  sub- 
jugation he  imposed  on  me.  It  was  in  vain  that  my  reason 
warned  me  of  the  rashness  of  a  measure  to  be  taken  with- 
out concert  or  preparation.  I  seemed  to  be  in  a  state  in 
which  reason  had  no  power.  I  felt  as  if  I  could  coolly  sur- 
vey the  several  arguments  of  the  case,  perceive  that  they  had 
prudence,  truth,  and  common  sense  on  their  side;  and  then 
answer,  I  am  under  the  guidance  of  a  director  more  energetic 
than  you.  , 

I  was  not  long  in  executing  what  I  had  thus  rapidly  de- 
termined. I  fixed  on  the  evening  of  that  very  day  as  the 
period  of  my  evasion.  Even  in  this  short  interval  I  had 
perhaps  sufficient  time  for  deliberation.  But  all  opportunity 
was  useless  to  me ;  my  mind  was  fixed,  and  each  succeeding 
moment  only  increased  the  unspeakable  eagerness  with 
which  I  meditated  my  escape.  The  hours  usually  ob- 
served by  our  family  in  this  country  residence  were  regular; 
and  one  in  the  morning  was  the  time  I  selected  for  my 
undertaking. 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  193 

In  searching  the  apartment  where  I  slept,  I  had  formerly 
discovered  a  concealed  door,  which  led  to  a  small  apartment 
of  the  most  secret  nature,  not  uncommon  in  houses  so  old 
as  that  of  Mr.  Falkland,  and  which  had  perhaps  served  as 
a  refuge  from  persecution,  or  a  security  from  the  inveterate 
hostilities  of  a  barbarous  age.  I  believed  no  person  was 
acquainted  with  this  hiding-place  but  myself.  I  felt  unac- 
countably impelled  to  remove  into  it  the  different  articles  of 
my  personal  property.  I  could  not  at  present  take  them 
away  with  me.  If  I  were  never  to  recover  them,  I  felt  that 
it  would  be  a  gratification  to  my  sentiment,  that  no  trace 
of  my  existence  should  be  found  after  my  departure.  Hav- 
ing completed  their  removal,  and  waited  till  the  hour  I  had 
previously  chosen,  I  stole  down  quietly  from  my  chamber 
with  a  lamp  in  my  hand.  I  went  along  a  passage  that 
led  to  a  small  door  opening  into  the  garden,  and  then 
crossed  the  garden  to  a  gate  that  intersected  an  elm-walk 
and  a  private  horse-path  on  the  outside. 

I  could  scarcely  believe  my  good  fortune  in  having  thus 
far  executed  my  design  without  interruption.  The  terrible 
images  Mr.  Falkland's  menaces  had  suggested  to  my  mind 
made  me  expect  impediment  and  detection  at  every  step; 
though  the  impassioned  state  of  my  mind  impelled  me  to 
advance  with  desperate  resolution.  He  probably,  however, 
counted  too  securely  upon  the  ascendency  of  his  sentiments, 
when  imperiously  pronounced,  to  think  it  necessary  to  take 
precautions  against  a  sinister  event.  For  myself,  I  drew  a 
favourable  omen  as  to  the  final  result  of  my  project,  from 
the  smoothness  of  success  that  attended  it  in  the  outset. 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-ONE 

THE  first  plan  that  had  suggested  itself  to  me  was,  to 
go  to  the  nearest  public  road  and  take  the  earliest 
stage  for  London.  There  I  believed  I  should  be 
most  safe  from  discovery,  if  the  vengeance  of  Mr.  Falkland 
should  prompt  him  to  pursue  me;  and  I  did  not  doubt, 
among  the  multiplied  resources  of  the  metropolis,  to  find 
something  which  should  suggest  to  me  an  eligible  mode  of 
disposing  of  my  person  and  industry.  I  reserved  Mr.  For- 
ester in  my  arrangement  as  a  last  resource,  not  to  be  called 
forth  unless  for  immediate  protection  from  the  hand  of 
persecution  and  power.  I  was  destitute  of  that  experience 
of  the  world  which  can  alone  render  us  fertile  in  resources, 
or  enable  us  to  institute  a  just  comparison  between  the  re- 
sources that  offer  themselves.  I  was  like  the  fascinated 
animal,  that  is  seized  with  the  most  terrible  apprehensions  at 
the  same  time  that  he  is  incapable  of  adequately  consider- 
ing for  his  own  safety. 

The  mode  of  my  proceeding  being  digested,  I  traced,  with 
a  cheerful  heart,  the  unfrequented  path  it  was  now  neces- 
sary for  me  to  pursue.  The  night  was  gloomy,  and  it 
drizzled  with  rain.  But  these  were  circumstances  I  had 
scarcely  the  power  to  perceive ;  all  was  sunshine  and  joy  with 
me.  I  hardly  felt  the  ground;  I  repeated  to  myself  a 
thousand  times,  "I  am  free.  What  concern  have  I  with 
danger  and  alarm?  I  feel  that  I  am  free:  I  feel  that  I  will 
continue  so.  What  power  is  able  to  hold  in  chains  a  mind 
ardent  and  determined?  What  power  can  cause  that  man 
to  die  whose  whole  soul  commands  him  to  continue  to  live?" 
I  looked  back  with  abhorrence  to  the  subjection  in  which  I 
had  been  held.  I  did  not  hate  the  author  of  my  misfor- 
tunes— truth  and  justice  acquit  me  of  that;  I  rather  pitied 

194 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  195 

the  hard  destiny  to  which  he  seemed  condemned.  But  I 
thought  with  unspeakable  loathing  of  those  errors,  in  con- 
sequence of  which  every  man  is  fated  to  be  more  or  less  the  V 
tyrant  or  the  slave.  I  was  astonished  at  the  folly  of  my 
species,  that  they  did  not  rise  up  as  one  man,  and  shake  off 
chains  so  ignominious  and  misery  so  insupportable.  So  far 
as  related  to  myself,  I  resolved — and  this  resolution  has 
never  been  entirely  forgotten  by  me — to  hold  myself  dis- 
engaged from  this  odious  scene,  and  never  fill  the  part 
either  of  the  oppressor  or  the  sufferer. 

My  mind  continued  in  this  enthusiastical  state,  full  of 
confidence,  and  accessible  only  to  such  a  portion  of  fear  as 
served  rather  to  keep  up  a  state  of  pleasurable  emotion  than 
to  generate  anguish  and  distress,  during  the  whole  of  this 
nocturnal  expedition.  After  a  walk  of  three  hours,  I  arrived, 
without  accident,  at  the  village  from  which  I  hoped  to  have 
taken  my  passage  for  the  metropolis.  At  this  early  hour 
everything  was  quiet;  no  sound  of  anything  human  saluted 
my  ear.  It  was  with  difficulty  that  I  gained  admittance  into 
the  yard  of  the  inn,  where  I  found  a  single  ostler  taking 
care  of  some  horses.  From  him  I  received  the  unwelcome 
tidings  that  the  coach  was  not  expected  till  six  o'clock  in 
the  morning  of  the  day  after  to-morrow,  its  route  through 
that  town  occurring  only  three  times  a  week.  This  intelli- 
gence gave  the  first  check  to  the  rapturous  inebriation  by 
which  my  mind  had  been  possessed  from  the  moment  I 
quitted  the  habitation  of  Mr.  Falkland.  The  whole  of  my 
fortune  in  ready  cash  consisted  of  about  eleven  guineas.  I 
had  about  fifty  more,  that  had  fallen  to  me  from  the  disposal 
of  my  property  at  the  death  of  my  father;  but  that  was  so 
vested  as  to  preclude  it  from  immediate  use,  and  I  even 
doubted  whether  it  would  not  be  found  better  ultimately 
to  resign  it,  than,  by  claiming  it,  to  risk  the  furnishing  a 
clew  to  what  I  most  of  all  dreaded,  the  persecution  of  Mr. 
Falkland.  There  was  nothing  I  so  ardently  desired  as  the 
annihilation  of  all  future  intercourse  between  us,  that  he 
should  not  know  there  was  such  a  person  on  the  earth  as 


196  ADVENTURES  OF 

myself,  and  that  I  should  nevermore  hear  the  repetition  of 
a  name  which  had  been  so  fatal  to  my  peace. 

Thus  circumstanced,  I  conceived  frugality  to  be  an  object 
by  no  means  unworthy  of  my  attention,  unable  as  I  was  to 
prognosticate  what  discouragements  and  delays  might  pre- 
sent themselves  to  the  accomplishment  of  my  wishes,  after 
my  arrival  in  London.  For  this  and  other  reasons,  I  deter- 
mined to  adhere  to  my  design  of  travelling  by  the  stage;  it 
only  remaining  for  me  to  consider  in  what  manner  I  should 
prevent  the  eventful  delay  of  twenty-four  hours  from  becom- 
ing, by  any  untoward  event,  a  source  of  new  calamity.  It 
was  by  no  means  advisable  to  remain  in  the  village  where 
I  now  was  during  this  interval ;  nor  did  I  even  think  proper 
to  employ  it  in  proceeding  on  foot  along  the  great  road.  I 
therefore  decided  upon  making  a  circuit,  the  direction  of 
which  should  seem  at  first  extremely  wide  of  my  intended 
route,  and  then,  suddenly  taking  a  different  inclination, 
should  enable  me  to  arrive  by  the  close  of  day  at  a  market- 
town  twelve  miles  nearer  to  the  metropolis. 

Having  fixed  the  economy  of  the  day,  and  persuaded  my- 
self that  it  was  the  best  which,  under  the  circumstances, 
could  be  adopted,  I  dismissed,  for  the  most  part,  all  further 
anxieties  from  my  mind,  and  eagerly  yielded  myself  up  to 
the  different  amusements  that  arose.  I  rested  and  went  for- 
ward at  the  impulse  of  the  moment.  At  one  time  I  re- 
clined upon  a  bank  immersed  in  contemplation,  and  at  an- 
other exerted  myself  to  analyze  the  prospects  which  suc- 
ceeded each  other.  The  haziness  of  the  morning  was  fol- 
lowed by  a  spirit-stirring  and  beautiful  day.  With  the  duc- 
tility so  characteristic  of  a  youthful  mind,  I  forgot  the 
anguish  which  had  lately  been  my  continual  guest,  and 
occupied  myself  entirely  in  dreams  of  future  novelty  and 
felicity.  I  scarcely  ever  in  the  whole  course  of  my  existence, 
spent  a  day  of  more  various  or  exquisite  gratification.  It 
furnished  a  strong,  and  perhaps  not  an  unsalutary  contrast, 
to  the  terrors  which  had  preceded,  and  the  dreadful  scenes 
that  awaited  me. 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  197 

In  the  evening  I  arrived  at  the  place  of  my  destination, 
and  inquired  for  the  inn  at  which  the  coach  was  accustomed 
to  call.  A  circumstance,  however,  had  previously  excited  my 
attention,  and  reproduced  in  me  a  state  of  alarm. 

Though  it  was  already  dark  before  I  reached  the  town, 
my  observation  had  been  attracted  by  a  man,  who  passed 
me  on  horseback  in  the  opposite  direction,  about  half  a  mile 
on  the  other  side  of  the  town.  There  was  an  inquisitiveness 
in  his  gesture  that  I  did  not  like;  and,  as  far  as  I  could  dis- 
cern his  figure,  I  pronounced  him  an  ill-looking  man.  He 
had  not  passed  me  more  than  two  minutes  before  I  heard 
the  sound  of  a  horse  advancing  slowly  behind  me.  These 
circumstances  impressed  some  degree  of  uneasy  sensation 
upon  my  mind.  I  first  mended  my  pace;  and,  this  not  ap- 
pearing to  answer  the  purpose,  I  afterward  loitered,  that  the 
horseman  might  pass  me.  He  did  so;  and,  as  I  glanced  at 
him,  I  thought  I  saw  that  it  was  the  same  man.  He  now 
put  his  horse  into  a  trot,  and  entered  the  town.  I  followed ; 
and  it  was  not  long  before  I  perceived  him  at  the  door 
of  an  alehouse,  drinking  a  mug  of  beer.  This,  however, 
the  darkness  prevented  me  from  discovering,  till  I  was  in  a 
manner  upon  him.  I  pushed  forward,  and  saw  him  no  more, 
till,  as  I  entered  the  yard  of  the  inn  where  I  intended  to 
sleep,  the  same  man  suddenly  rode  up  to  me,  and  asked  if 
my  name  were  Williams. 

This  adventure,  while  it  had  been  passing,  expelled  the 
gayety  of  my  mind,  and  filled  me  with  anxiety.  The  appre- 
hension, however,  that  I  felt,  appeared  to  me  groundless ;  if  I 
were  pursued,  I  took  it  for  granted  it  would  be  by  some  of 
Mr.  Falkland's  people,  and  not  by  a  stranger.  The  darkness 
took  from  me  some  of  the  simplest  expedients  of  precaution. 
I  determined  at  least  to  proceed  to  the  inn,  and  make  the 
necessary  inquiries. 

I  no  sooner  heard  the  sound  of  the  horse  as  I  entered 
the  yard,  and  the  question  proposed  to  me  by  the  rider, 
than  the  dreadful  certainty  of  what  I  feared  instantly  took 
possession  of  my  mind.    Every  incident  connected  with  my 


i98  ADVENTURES  OF 

late  abhorred  situation  was  calculated  to  impress  me  with 
the  deepest  alarm.  My  first  thought  was,  to  betake  myself 
to  the  fields,  and  trust  to  the  swiftness  of  my  flight  for 
safety.  But  this  was  scarcely  practicable:  I  remarked  that 
my  enemy  was  alone;  and  I  believed  that,  man  to  man,  I 
might  reasonably  hope  to  get  the  better  of  him,  either  by  the 
firmness  of  my  determination,  or  the  subtlety  of  my  inven- 
tion. 

Thus  resolved,  I  replied  in  an  impetuous  and  peremptory 
tone,  that  I  was  the  man  he  took  me  for;  adding,  "I  guess 
your  errand;  but  it  is  to  no  purpose.  You  come  to  conduct 
me  back  to  Falkland  House;  but  no  force  shall  ever  drag 
me  to  that  place  alive.  I  have  not  taken  my  resolution  with- 
out strong  reasons;  and  all  the  world  shall  not  persuade 
me  to  alter  it.  I  am  an  Englishman,  and  it  is  the  privilege 
of  an  Englishman  to  be  sole  judge  and  master  of  his  own 
actions." 

"You  are  in  the  devil  of  a  hurry,"  replied  the  man,  "to 
guess  my  intentions,  and  tell  your  own.  But  your  guess  is 
right ;  and  mayhap  you  may  have  reason  to  be  thankful  that 
my  errand  is  not  something  worse.  Sure  enough  the  squire 
expects  you; — but  I  have  a  letter,  and  when  you  have  read 
that,  I  suppose  you  will  come  off  a  little  of  your  stoutness. 
If  that  does  not  answer,  it  will  then  be  time  to  think  what 
is  to  be  done  next." 

Thus  saying,  he  gave  me  his  letter,  which  was  from  Mr. 
Forester,  whom,  as  he  told  me,  he  had  left  at  Mr.  Falk- 
land's house.  I  went  into  a  room  of  the  inn  for  the  pur- 
pose of  reading  it,  and  was  followed  by  the  bearer.  The 
letter  was  as  follows:  — 

"Williams, 
"My  brother  Falkland  has  sent  the  bearer  in  pursuit  of 
you.  He  expects  that,  if  found,  you  will  return  with  him: 
I  expect  it  too.  It  is  of  the  utmost  consequence  to  your 
future  honour  and  character.  After  reading  these  lines,  if 
you  are  a  villain  and  a  rascal,  you  will  perhaps  endeavour 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  199 

to  fly;  if  your  conscience  tells  you  you  are  innocent,  you 
will,  out  of  all  doubt,  come  back.  Show  me  then  whether  I 
have  been  your  dupe;  and,  while  I  was  won  over  by  your 
seeming  ingenuousness,  have  suffered  myself  to  be  made  the 
tool  of  a  designing  knave.  If  you  come,  I  pledge  myself 
that,  if  you  clear  your  reputation,  you  shall  not  only  be  free 
to  go  wherever  you  please,  but  shall  receive  every  assistance 
in  my  power  to  give.  Remember,  I  engage  for  nothing 
further  than  that. 

"Valentine  Forester." 

What  a  letter  was  this!  To  a  mind  like  mine,  glowing 
with  the  love  of  virtue,  such  an  address  was  strong  enough 
to  draw  the  person  to  whom  it  was  addressed  from  one  end 
of  the  earth  to  the  other.  My  mind  was  full  of  confidence 
and  energy.  I  felt  my  own  innocence,  and  was  determined 
to  assert  it.  I  was  willing  to  be  driven  out  a  fugitive;  I 
even  rejoiced  in  my  escape,  and  cheerfully  went  out  into 
the  world  destitute  of  every  provision,  and  depending  for  my 
future  prospects  upon  my  own  ingenuity. 

Thus  much,  said  I,  Falkland!  you  may  do.  Dispose  of 
me  as  you  please  with  respect  to  the  goods  of  fortune;  but 
you  shall  neither  make  prize  of  my  liberty,  nor  sully  the 
whiteness  of  my  name.  I  repassed  in  my  thoughts  every 
memorable  incident  that  had  happened  to  me  under  his 
roof.  I  could  recollect  nothing,  except  the  affair  of  the 
mysterious  trunk,  out  of  which  the  shadow  of  a  criminal  ac- 
cusation could  be  extorted.  In  that  instance  my  conduct 
had  been  highly  reprehensible,  and  I  had  never  looked 
back  upon  it  without  remorse  and  self-condemnation.  But 
I  did  not  believe  that  it  was  of  the  nature  of  those  actions 
which  can  be  brought  under  legal  censure.  I  could  still 
less  persuade  myself  that  Mr.  Falkland,  who  shuddered  at 
the  very  possibility  of  detection,  and  who  considered  him- 
self as  completely  in  my  power,  would  dare  to  bring  for- 
ward a  subject  so  closely  connected  with  the  internal  agony 
of  his  soul.    In  a  word,  the  more  I  reflected  on  the  phrases 


200  ADVENTURES  OF 

of  Mr.  Forester's  billet,  the  less  could  I  imagine  the  nature 
of  those  scenes  to  which  they  were  to  serve  as  a  prelude. 

The  inscrutableness,  however,  of  the  mystery  they  con- 
tained did  not  suffice  to  overwhelm  my  courage.  My  mind 
seemed  to  undergo  an  entire  revolution.  Timid  and  em- 
barrassed as  I  had  felt  myself,  when  I  regarded  Mr.  Falk- 
land as  my  clandestine  and  domestic  foe,  I  now  conceived 
that  the  case  was  entirely  altered.  "Meet  me,"  said  I,  "as 
an  open  accuser:  if  we  must  contend,  let  us  contend  in  the 
face  of  day;  and  then,  unparalleled  as  your  resources  may 
be,  I  will  not  fear  you."  Innocence  and  guilt  were,  in  my 
apprehension,  the  things  in  the  whole  world  the  most  oppo- 
site to  each  other.  I  would  not  suffer  myself  to  believe 
that  the  former  could  be  confounded  with  the  latter,  unless 
the  innocent  man  first  allowed  himself  to  be  subdued  in 
mind,  before  he  was  defrauded  of  the  good  opinion  of  man- 
kind. Virtue  rising  superior  to  every  calamity,  defeating  by 
a  plain  unvarnished  tale  all  the  stratagems  of  vice,  and 
throwing  back  upon  her  adversary  the  confusion  with  which 
he  had  hoped  to  overwhelm  her,  was  one  of  the  favourite 
subjects  of  my  youthful  reveries.  I  determined  never  to 
prove  an  instrument  of  destruction  to  Mr.  Falkland;  but  I 
was  not  less  resolute  to  obtain  justice  to  myself. 

The  issue  of  all  these  confident  hopes  I  shall  immediately 
have  occasion  to  relate.  It  was  thus,  with  the  most  generous 
and  undoubting  spirit,  that  I  rushed  upon  irretrievable 
ruin. 

"Friend,"  said  I  to  the  bearer,  after  a  considerable  inter- 
val of  silence,  "you  are  right.  This  is,  indeed,  an  extraordi- 
nary letter  you  have  brought  me ;  but  it  answers  its  purpose. 
I  will  certainly  go  with  you  now,  whatever  be  the  conse- 
quence. No  person  shall  ever  impute  blame  to  me,  so  long 
as  I  have  it  in  my  power  to  clear  myself." 

I  felt,  in  the  circumstances  in  which  I  was  placed  by  Mr. 
Forester's  letter,  not  merely  a  willingness,  but  an  alacrity 
and  impatience  to  return.  We  procured  a  second  horse.  We 
proceeded  on  our  journey  in  silence.    My  mind  was  occupied 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  201 

again  in  endeavouring  to  account  for  Mr.  Forester's  letter. 
I  knew  the  inflexibility  and  sternness  of  Mr.  Falkland's  mind 
in  accomplishing  the  purposes  he  had  at  heart;  but  I  also 
knew  that  every  virtuous  and  magnanimous  principle  was 
congenial  to  his  character. 

When  we  arrived,  midnight  was  already  past,  and  we 
were  obliged  to  waken  one  of  the  servants  to  give  us  ad- 
mittance. I  found  that  Mr.  Forester  had  left  a  message  for 
me,  in  consideration  of  the  possibility  of  my  arrival  during 
the  night,  directing  me  immediately  to  go  to  bed,  and  to 
take  care  that  I  did  not  come  weary  and  exhausted  to  the 
business  of  the  following  day.  I  endeavoured  to  take  his 
advice;  but  my  slumbers  were  unrefreshing  and  disturbed. 
I  suffered,  however,  no  reduction  of  courage:  the  singularity 
of  my  situation,  my  conjectures  with  respect  to  the  present,, 
my  eagerness  for  the  future,  did  not  allow  me  to  sink  into 
a  languid  and  inactive  state. 

Next  morning  the  first  person  I  saw  was  Mr.  Forester. 
He  told  me  that  he  did  not  yet  know  what  Mr.  Falkland 
had  to  allege  against  me,  for  that  he  had  refused  to  know. 
He  had  arrived  at  the  house  of  his  brother  by  appointment 
on  the  preceding  day  to  settle  some  indispensable  business, 
his  intention  having  been  to  depart  the  moment  the  business 
was  finished,  as  he  knew  that  conduct  on  his  part  would  be 
most  agreeable  to  Mr.  Falkland.  But  he  was  no  sooner 
come  than  he  found  the  whole  house  in  confusion,  the  alarm 
of  my  elopement  having  been  given  a  few  hours  before. 
Mr.  Falkland  had  despatched  servants  in  all  directions  in 
pursuit  of  me;  and  the  servant  from  the  market-town  ar- 
rived at  the  same  moment  with  Mr.  Forester,  with  intelli- 
gence that  a  person  answering  the  description  he  gave  had 
been  there  very  early  in  the  morning,  inquiring  respecting 
the  stage  to  London. 

Mr.  Falkland  seemed  extremely  disturbed  at  this  informa- 
tion, and  exclaimed  on  me  with  acrimony,  as  an  unthankful 
and  unnatural  villain. 

Mr.  Forester  replied,  "Have  more  command  of  yourself, 


202  ADVENTURES  OF 

sir!  Villain  is  a  serious  appellation,  and  must  not  be  trifled 
with.  Englishmen  are  free;  and  no  man  is  to  be  charged 
with  villany  because  he  changes  one  source  of  subsistence  for 
another." 

Mr.  Falkland  shook  his  head,  and  with  a  smile  expressive 
of  acute  sensibility,  said,  " Brother,  brother,  you  are  the  dupe 
of  his  art.  I  always  considered  him  with  an  eye  of  suspicion, 
and  was  aware  of  his  depravity.  But  I  have  just  discov- 
ered— " 

"Stop,  sir!"  interrupted  Mr.  Forester.  "I  own  I  thought 
that,  in  a  moment  of  acrimony,  you  might  be  employing 
harsh  epithets  in  a  sort  of  random  style.  But  if  you  have 
a  serious  accusation  to  state,  we  must  not  be  told  of  that 
till  it  is  known  whether  the  lad  is  within  reach  of  a  hearing. 
V     J  am  indifferent  myself  about  the  pr>od  opinion  of  others      Tt 

js  what  the  world  bestows  and  retracts  with  so  little  thought. 
that  I  can  make  nojrcount  of  its  decision  J&fljlhal  Hneg  ^rd 

authorize  me  lightly  to  pntertain   an   ill   npininn   nf   qn.Qthpr^ 

The  slenderest  allowance  I  think  T  ran  make  to  such  aj^J 
consign  to  be  the  example  and  terror  of  their  species,  is 
that  qTBeing  heaMinJ^heirjiwjLjieience.  It  is  a  wise  prin- 
ciple that  requires  the  judge  to  come  into  court  uninformed 
of  the  merits  of  the  cause  he  is  to  try;  and  to  that  principle 
I  am  determined  to  conform  as  an  individual.  I  shall 
always  think  it  right  to  be  severe  and  inflexible  in  my  treat- 
ment of  offenders;  but  -the  severity  I  exercise  in  the  sequel, 
must  be  accompanied  with  impartiality  and  caution  in  what 
is  preliminary." 

While  Mr.  Forester  related  to  me  these  particulars,  he 
observed  me  ready  to  break  out  into  some  of  the  expressions 
which  the  narrative  suggested;  but  he  would  not  suffer  me 
to  speak.  "No,"  said  he;  "I  would  not  hear  Mr.  Falkland 
against  you;  and  I  cannot  hear  you  in  your  defence.  I  come 
to  you  at  present  to  speak,  and  not  to  hear.  I  thought  it 
right  to  warn  you  of  your  danger,  but  I  have  nothing  more 
to  do  now.  Reserve  what  you  have  to  say  to  the  proper 
time.     Make  the  best  story  you  can  for  yourself — true,  if 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  203 

• 

truth,  as  I  hope,  will  serve  your  purpose;  but,  if  not,  the 
most  plausible  and  ingenious  you  can  invent.  That  is  what 
self-defence  requires  from  every  man,  where,  as  it  always 
happens  to  a  man  upon  his  trial,  he  has  the  whole  world 
against  him,  and  has  his  own  battle  to  fight  against  the 
world.  Farewell;  and  God  send  you  a  good  deliverance!  If 
Mr.  Falkland's  accusation,  whatever  it  be,  shall  appear  pre- 
mature, depend  upon  having  me  mere  zealously  your  friend 
than  ever.  If  not;  this  is  the  last  act  of  friendship  you  will 
ever  receive  from  me!" 

It  may  be  believed  that  this  address,  so  singular,  so 
solemn,  so  big  with  conditional  menace,  did  not  greatly  tend 
to  encourage  me.  I  was  totally  ignorant  of  the  charge  to 
be  advanced  against  me;  and  not  a  little  astonished,  when 
it  was  in  my  power  to  be  in  the  most  formidable  degree  the 
accuser  of  Mr.  Falkland,  to  find  the  principles  of  equity  so 
completely  reversed,  as  for  the  innocent  but  instructed  in- 
dividual to  be  the  party  accused  and  suffering,  instead  of 
having,  as  was  natural,  the  real  criminal  at  his  mercy.  I  was 
still  more  astonished  at  the  superhuman  power  Mr.  Falk- 
land seemed  to  possess,  of  bringing  the  object  of  his  persecu- 
tion within  the  sphere  of  his  authority;  a  reflection  at- 
tended with  some  check  to  that  eagerness  and  boldness  of 
spirit  which  now  constituted  the  ruling  passion  of  my  mind. 

But  this  was  no  time  for  meditation.  To  the  sufferer  the 
course  of  events  is  taken  out  of  his  direction,  and  he  is 
hurried  along  with  an  irresistible  force,  without  finding  it 
within  the  compass  of  his  efforts  to  check  their  rapidity.  I 
was  allowed  only  a  short  time  to  recollect  myself,  when  my 
trial  commenced.  I  was  conducted  to  the  library,  where  I 
had  passed  so  many  happy  and  so  many  contemplative 
hours,  and  found  there  Mr.  Forester  and  three  or  four  of  the 
servants  already  assembled,  in  expectation  of  me  and  my 
accuser.  Everything  was  calculated  to  suggest  to  me  that 
I  must  trust  only  in  the  justice  of  the  parties  concerned, 
and  had  nothing  to  hope  from  their  indulgence.  Mr.  Falk- 
land entered  at  one  door,  almost  as  soon  as  I  entered  at 
the  other. 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-TWO 

MR.  FALKLAND  began:  "It  has  been  the  principle 
of  my  life  never  to  inflict  a -wilful  iniurv  upon  any- 
thing that  lives;  I  need  not  express  my  regret  when 
I  find  myself  obliged  to  be  the  promulgator  of  a  criminal 
charge.  How  gladly  would  I  pass  unnoticed  the  evil  I  have 
sustained ;  -but  T  owfi  it  t^  f "viety  tn  jetect  an  offender,,  and, 
_prevent  other  men  from  being  imposed  upon,  as  I  h^y*  ji^n 
by  an  appearance  ot  lfltEgrhV."^ 

would  be  better/'  interrupted  Mr.  Forester,  "to  speak 
directly  to  the  point.  We  ought  not,  though  unwarily,  by 
apologizing  for  ourselves,  to  create  at  such  a  time  a  prejudice 
against  an  individual,  against  whom  a  criminal  accusation 
will  always  be  prejudice  enough." 

"I  strongly  suspect,"  continued  Mr.  Falkland,  "this  young 
man,  who  has  been  peculiarly  the  object  of  my  kindness,  of 
having  robbed  me  to  a  considerable  amount." 

"What,"  replied  Mr.  Forester,  "are  the  grounds  of  your 
suspicion?" 

"The  first  of  them  is  the  actual  loss  I  have  sustained,  in 
notes,  jewels,  and  plate.  I  have  missed  bank-notes  to  the 
amount  of  nine  hundred  pounds,  three  gold  repeaters  of  con- 
siderable value,  a  complete  set  of  diamonds,  the  property  of 
my  late  mother,  and  several  other  articles." 

"And  why,"  continued  my  arbitrator,  astonishment,  grief, 
and  a  desire  to  retain  his  self-possession  strongly  contending 
in  his  countenance  and  voice,  "do  you  fix  on  this  young 
man  as  the  instrument  of  the  depredation?" 

"I  found  him,  on  my  coming  home,  upon  the  day  when 
everything  was  in  disorder  from  the  alarm  of  fire,  in  the 
very  act  of  quitting  the  private  apartment  where  these 

204 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  205 

articles  were  deposited.  He  was  confounded  at  seeing  me, 
and  hastened  to  withdraw  as  soon  as  he  possibly  could." 

"Did  you  say  nothing  to  him — take  no  notice  of  the  con- 
fusion your  sudden  appearance  produced?" 

"I  asked  what  was  his  errand  in  that  place.  He  was  at 
first  so  terrified  and  overcome,  that  he  could  not  answer 
me.  Afterward,  with  a  good  deal  of  faltering,  he  said  that, 
when  all  the  servants  were  engaged  in  endeavouring  to  save 
the  most  valuable  part  of  my  property,  he  had  come  hither 
with  the  same  view;  but  that  he  had  as  yet  removed 
nothing." 

"Did  you  immediately  examine  to  see  that  everything  was 
safe?" 

"No.  I  was  accustomed  to  confide  in  his  honesty;  and  I 
was  suddenly  called  away,  in  the  present  instance,  to  attend 
to  the  increasing  progress  of  the  flames.  I  therefore  only 
took  out  the  key  from  the  door  of  the  apartment,  having 
first  locked  it,  and,  putting  it  in  my  pocket,  hastened  to  go 
where  my  presence  seemed  indispensably  necessary." 

"How  long  was  it  before  you  missed  your  property?" 

"The  same  evening.  The  hurry  of  the  scene  had  driven 
the  circumstance  entirely  out  of  my  mind,  till,  going  by 
accident  near  the  apartment,  the  whole  affair,  together  with 
the  singular  and  equivocal  behaviour  of  Williams,  rushed  at 
once  upon  my  recollection.  I  immediately  entered,  examined 
the  trunk  in  which  these  things  were  contained,  and,  to  my 
astonishment,  found  the  locks  broken  and  the  property 
gone." 

"What  steps  did  you  take  upon  this  discovery?" 

"I  sent  for  Williams,  and  talked  to  him  very  seriously 
upon  the  subject.  But  he  had  now  perfectly  recovered  his 
self-command,  and  calmly  and  stoutly  denied  all  knowledge 
of  the  matter.  I  urged  him  with  the  enormousness  of  the 
offence,  but  I  made  no  impression.  He  did  not  discover 
either  the  surprise  and  indignation  one  would  have  expected 
from  a  person  entirely  innocent,  or  the  uneasiness  that  gen- 
erally attends  upon  guilt.     He  was  rather  silent  and  re- 


206  ADVENTURES  OF 

served.  I  then  informed  him  that  I  should  proceed  in  a 
manner  different  from  what  he  might  perhaps  expect.  I 
would  not,  as  is  too  frequent  in  such  cases,  make  a  general 
search;  for  I  had  rather  lose  my  property  for  ever  without 
redress,  than  expose  a  multitude  of  innocent  persons  to 
inxiety  anoliiiiuslk^  My  suspicion,  for  the  present;  un- 
avoidably nxed  upon  him.  But,  in  a  matter  of  so  great  con- 
sequence, I  was  determined  not  to  act  upon  suspicion.  I 
would  neither  incur  the  possibility  of  ruining  him,  being 
innocent,  nor  be  the  instrument  of  exposing  others  to  his 
depredations,  if  guilty.  I  should  therefore  merely  insist 
upon  his  continuing  in  my  service.  He  might  depend  upon 
it  he  should  be  well  watched,  and  I  trusted  the  whole  truth 
would  eventually  appear.  Since  he  avoided  confession 
now,  I  advised  him  to  consider  how  far  it  was  likely  he 
would  come  off  with  impunity  at  last.  This  I  determined 
on,  that  the  moment  he  attempted  an  escape,  I  would  con- 
sider that  as  an  indication  of  guilt,  and  proceed  accordingly." 

"What  circumstances  have  occurred  from  that  time  to  the 
present?" 

"None  upon  which  I  can  infer  a  certainty  of  guilt;  several 
that  agree  to  favour  a  suspicion.  From  that  time  Williams 
was  perpetually  uneasy  in  his  situation,  always  desirous,  as 
it  now  appears,  to  escape,  but  afraid  to  adopt  such  a  measure 
without  certain  precautions.  It  was  not  long  after  that  you, 
Mr.  Forester,  became  my  visiter.  I  observed,  with  dissatis- 
faction, the  growing  intercourse  between  you,  reflecting  on 
the  equivocalness  of  his  character,  and  the  attempt  he  would 
probably  make  to  render  you  the  dupe  of  his  hypocrisy.  I 
accordingly  threatened  him  severely;  and  I  believe  you  ob- 
served the  change  that  presently  after  occurred  in  his  be- 
haviour with  relation  to  you." 

"I  did,  and  it  appeared  at  that  time  mysterious  and 
extraordinary." 

"Some  time  after,  as  you  well  know,  a  rencounter  took 
place  between  you,  whether  accidental  or  intentional  on  his 
part  I  am  not  able  to  say,  when  he  confessed  to  you  the  un- 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  207 

easiness  of  his  mind,  without  discovering  the  cause,  and 
openly  proposed  to  you  to  assist  him  in  his  flight,  and 
stand,  in  case  of  necessity,  between  him  and  my  resentment. 
You  offered,  it  seems,  to  take  him  into  your  service;  but 
nothing,  as  he  acknowledged,  would  answer  his  purpose  that 
did  not  place  his  retreat  wholly  out  of  my  power  to  dis- 
cover." 

"Did  it  not  appear  extraordinary  to  you,  that  he  should 
hope  for  any  effectual  protection  from  me,  while  it  remained 
perpetually  in  your  power  to  satisfy  me  of  his  unworthi- 
ness?" 

"Perhaps  he  had  hopes  that  I  should  not  proceed  to  that 
step,  at  least  so  long  as  the  place  of  his  retreat  should  be 
unknown  to  me,  and  of  consequence  the  event  of  my  pro- 
ceeding dubious.  Perhaps  he  confided  in  his  own  powers, 
which  are  far  from  contemptible,  to  construct  a  plausible 
tale,  especially  as  he  had  taken  care  to  have  the  first  impres- 
sion in  his  favour.  After  all,  this  protection,  on  your  part, 
was  merely  reserved  in  case  all  other  expedients  failed. 
He  does  not  appear  to  have  had  any  other  sentiment  upon 
the  subject,  than  that,  if  he  were  defeated  in  his  projects 
for  placing  himself  beyond  the  reach  of  justice,  it  was  better 
to  have  bespoken  a  place  in  your  patronage  than  to  be  des- 
titute of  every  resource." 

Mr.  Falkland,  having  thus  finished  his  evidence,  called 
upon  Robert,  the  valet,  to  confirm  the  part  of  it  which 
related  to  the  day  of  the  fire. 

Robert  stated,  that  he  happened  to  be  coming  through 
the  library  that  day,  a  few  minutes  after  Mr.  Falkland's 
being  brought  home  by  the  sight  of  the  fire;  that  he  had 
found  me  standing  there  with  every  mark  of  perturbation 
and  fright;  that  he  could  not  help  stopping  to  notice  it; 
that  he  had  spoken  to  me  two  or  three  times  before  he 
could  obtain  an  answer;  and  that  all  he  could  get  from  me 
at  last  was,  that  I  was  the  most  miserable  creature  alive. 

He  further  said,  that  in  the  evening  of  the  same  day  Mr. 
Falkland  called  him  into  the  private  apartment  adjoining 


208  ADVENTURES  OF 

to  the  library,  and  bid  him  bring  a  hammer  and  some  nails. 
He  then  showed  him  a  trunk  standing  in  the  apartment  with 
its  locks  and  fastenings  broken,  and  ordered  him  to  observe 
and  remember  what  he  saw,  but  not  to  mention  it  to  any 
one.  Robert  did  not  at  that  time  know  what  Mr.  Falkland 
intended  by  these  directions,  which  were  given  in  a  manner 
uncommonly  solemn  and  significant;  but  he  entertained  no 
doubt  that  the  fastenings  were  broken  and  wrenched  by  the 
application  of  a  chisel  or  such-like  instrument,  with  the  in- 
tention of  forcibly  opening  the  trunk. 

Mr.  Forester  observed,  upon  this  evidence,  that  as  much  of 
it  as  related  to  the  day  of  the  fire  seemed  indeed  to  afford 
powerful  reasons  for  suspicion;  and  that  the  circumstances 
that  had  occurred  since  strangely  concurred  to  fortify  that 
suspicion.  Meantime,  that  nothing  proper  to  be  done  might 
be  omitted,  he  asked  whether  in  my  flight  I  had  removed 
my  boxes,  to  see  whether  by  that  means  any  trace  could  be 
discovered  to  confirm  the  imputation.  Mr.  Falkland  treated 
this  suggestion  slightly,  saying,  that  if  I  were  the  thief,  I 
had,  no  doubt,  taken  the  precaution  to  obviate  so  palpable 
a  means  of  detection.  To  this  Mr.  Forester  only  replied, 
that  conjecture,  however  skilfully  formed,  was  not  always 
realized  in  the  actions  and  behaviour  of  mankind;  and 
ordered  that  my  boxes  and  trunks,  if  found,  should  be 
brought  into  the  library.  I  listened  to  this  suggestion  with 
pleasure;  and,  uneasy  and  confounded  as  I  was  at  the  ap- 
pearances combined  against  me,  I  trusted  in  this  appeal  to 
give  a  new  face  to  my  cause.  I  was  eager  to  declare  the 
place  where  my  property  was  deposited;  and  the  servants, 
guided  by  my  direction,  presently  produced  what  was  in- 
quired for. 

The  two  boxes  that  were  first  opened  contained  nothing 
to  confirm  the  accusation  against  me;  in  the  third  were 
found  a  watch  and  several  jewels,  that  were  .immediately 
known  to  be  the  property  of  Mr.  Falkland.  The  produc- 
tion of  this  seemingly  decisive  evidence  excited  emotions  of 
astonishment  and  concern ;  but  no  person's  astonishment  ap- 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  209 

peared  to  be  greater  than  that  of  Mr.  Falkland.  That  I 
should  have  left  the  stolen  goods  behind  me  would  of  itself 
have  appeared  incredible ;  but  when  it  was  considered  what  a 
secure  place  of  concealment  I  had  found  for  them,  the  won- 
der diminished,  and  Mr.  Forester  observed  that  it  was  by 
no  means  impossible  I  might  conceive  it  easier  to  obtain 
possession  of  them  afterward  than  to  remove  them  at  the 
period  of  my  precipitate  flight. 

Here,  however,  I  thought  it  necessary  to  interfere.  I 
fervently  urged  my  right  to  a  fair  and  impartial  construc- 
tion. I  asked  Mr.  Forester  whether  it  were  probable,  if  I  had 
stolen  these  things,  that  I  should  not  have  contrived  at  least 
to  remove  them  along  with  me?  And  again,  whether,  if  I 
had  been  conscious  they  would  be  found  among  my  prop- 
erty, I  should  myself  have  indicated  the  place  where  I 
had  concealed  it? 

The  insinuation  I  conveyed  against  Mr.  Forester's  im- 
partiality overspread  his  whole  countenance,  for  an  instant, 
with  the  flush  of  anger. 

"Impartiality,  young  man!  Yes,  be  sure,  from  me  you 
shall  experience  an  impartial  treatment!  God  send  that 
may  answer  your  purpose.  Presently  you  shall  be  heard  at 
full  in  your  own  defence. 

"You  expect  us  to  believe  you  innocent  because  you  did 
not  remove  these  things  along  with  you.  The  money  is 
removed.  Where,  sir,  is  that?  We  cannot  answer  for  the 
inconsistencies  and  oversights  of  any  human  mind,  and, 
least  of  all,  if  that  mind  should  appear  to  be  disturbed  with 
the  consciousness  of  guilt. 

"You  observe  that  it  was  by  your  own  direction  these 
boxes  and  trunks  have  been  found:  that  is  indeed  extraordi- 
nary. It  appears  little  less  than  infatuation.  But  to  what 
purpose  appeal  to  probabilities  and  conjecture,  in  the  face 
of  incontestable  facts?  There,  sir,  are  the  boxes:  you  alone 
knew  where  they  were  to  be  found;  you  alone  had  the  keys: 
tell  us,  then,  how  this  watch  and  these  jewels  came  to  be 
contained  in  them?" 


\ 


210  ADVENTURES  OF 

I  was  silent. 

To  the  rest  of  the  persons  present  I  seemed  to  be  merely 
the  subject  of  detection;  but  in  reality  I  was,  of  all  the 
spectators,  that  individual  who  was  most  at  a  loss  to  con- 
ceive, through  every  stage  of  the  scene,  what  would  come 
next,  and  who  listened  to  every  word  that  was  uttered  with 
the  most  uncontrollable  amazement.  Amazement,  however, 
alternately  yielded  to  indignation  and  horror.  At  first  I 
could  not  refrain  from  repeatedly  attempting  to  interrupt; 
but  I  was  checked  in  these  attempts  by  Mr.  Forester;  and  I 
presently  felt  how  necessary  it  was  to  my  future  peace  that 
I  should  collect  the  whole  energy  of  my  mind  to  repel  the 
charge,  and  assert  my  innocence. 

Everything  being  now  produced  that  could  be  produced 
against  me,  Mr.  Forester  turned  to  me  with  a  look  of  con- 
cern and  pity,  and  told  me  that  now  was  the  time,  if  I 
chose  to  allege  anything  in  my  defence.  In  reply  to  this 
invitation,  I  spoke  nearly  as  follows: — 

"I  am  innocent.  It  is  in  vain  that  circumstances  are 
accumulated  against  me;  there  is  not  a  person  upon  earth 
less  capable  than  I  of  the  things  of  which  I  am  accused.  I 
appeal  to  my  heart — I  appeal  to  my  looks — I  appeal  to  every 
sentiment  my  tongue  ever  uttered." 

I  could  perceive  that  the  fervour  with  which  I  spoke 
made  some  impression  upon  every  one  that  heard  me.  But 
in  a  moment  their  eyes  were  turned  upon  the  property  that 
lay  before  them,  and  their  countenances  changed.  I  pro- 
ceeded:— 

"One  thing  more  I  must  aver; — Mr.  Falkland  is  not  de- 
ceived; he  perfectly  knows  that  I  am  innocent." 

I  had  no  sooner  uttered  these  words  than  an  involuntary 
cry  of  indignation  burst  from  every  person  in  the  room. 
Mr.  Forester  turned  to  me  with  a  look  of  extreme  severity, 
rnd  said: — 

" Young  man,  consider  well  what  you  are  doing!  It  is 
the  privilege  of  the  party  accused  to  say  whatever  he  thinks 
proper;   and  I  will  take  care  that  you  shall  enjoy  that 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  211 

privilege  in  its  utmost  extent.  But  do  you  think  it  will 
conduce  in  any  respect  to  your  benefit  to  throw  out  such  in- 
solent and  intolerable  insinuations?" 

"I  thank  you  most  sincerely,"  replied  I,  "for  your  cau- 
tion; but  I  well  know  what  it  is  I  am  doing.  I  make 
this  declaration,  not  merely  because  it  is  solemnly  true, 
but  because  it  is  inseparably  connected  with  my  vindica- 
tion. I  am  the  party  accused,  and  I  shall  be  told  that  I 
am  not  to  be  believed  in  my  own  defence.  I  can  produce 
no  other  witnesses  of  my  innocence;  I  therefore  call  upon 
Mr.  Falkland  to  be  my  evidence.    I  ask  him — 

"Did  you  never  boast  to  me  in  private  of  your  power  to 
ruin  me?  Did  you  never  say  that,  if  once  I  brought  on 
myself  the  weight  of  your  displeasure,  my  fall  should  be 
irreparable?  Did  you  not  tell  me  that,  though  I  should 
prepare  in  that  case  a  tale  however  plausible  or  however 
true,  you  would  take  care  that  the  whole  world  should 
execrate  me  as  an  impostor?  Were  not  those  your  very 
words?  Did  you  not  add,  that  my  innocence  should  be  of 
no  service  to  me,  and  that  you  laughed  at  so  feeble  a 
defence?  I  ask  you  further, — Did  you  not  receive  a  letter 
from  me  the  morning  of  the  day  on  which  I  departed,  re- 
questing your  consent  to  my  departure?  Should  I  have 
done  that  if  my  flight  had  been  that  of  a  thief?  I  challenge 
any  man  to  reconcile  the  expressions  of  that  letter  with  this 
accusation.  Should  I  have  begun  with  stating  that  I  had 
conceived  a  desire  to  quit  your  service,  if  my  desire,  and 
the  reasons  for  it,  had  been  of  the  nature  that  is  now 
alleged?  Should  I  have  dared  to  ask  for  what  reason  I 
was  thus  subjected  to  an  eternal  penance?" 

Saying  this,  I  took  out  a  copy  of  my  letter,  and  laid  it 
open  upon  the  table. 

Mr.  Falkland  returned  no  immediate  answer  to  my  in- 
terrogations. Mr.  Forester  turned  to  him,  and  said,  "Well, 
sir,  what  is  your  reply  to  this  challenge  of  your  servant?" 

Mr.  Falkland  answered,  "Such  a  mode  of  defence  scarcely 
calls  for  a  reply.     But  I  answer,  I  held  no  such  conversa- 


212  ADVENTURES  OF 

tion;  I  never  used  such  words;  I  received  no  such  letter. 
Surely  it  is  no  sufficient  refutation  of  a  criminal  charge,  that 
the  criminal  repels  what  is  alleged  against  him  with  volubil- 
ity of  speech  and  intrepidity  of  manner." 

Mr.  Forester  then  turned  to  me:  "If,"  said  he,  "you  trust 
your  vindication  to  the  plausibility  of  your  tale,  you  must 
take  care  to  render  it  consistent  and  complete.  You  have 
not  told  us  what  was  the  cause  of  the  confusion  and  anxiety 
in  which  Robert  professes  to  have  found  you,  why  you  were 
so  impatient  to  quit  the  service  of  Mr.  Falkland,  or  how 
you  account  for  certain  articles  of  his  property  being  found 
in  your  possession." 

"All  that,  sir,"  answered  I,  "is  true.  There  are  certain 
parts  of  my  story  that  I  have  not  told.  If  they  were  told, 
they  would  not  conduce  to  my  disadvantage,  and  they  would 
make  the  present  accusation  appear  still  more  astonishing. 
But  I  cannot,  as  yet  at  least,  prevail  upon  myself  to  tell 
them.  Is  it  necessary  to  give  any  particular  and  precise 
reasons  why  I  should  wish  to  change  the  place  of  my  resi- 
dence? You  all  of  you  know  the  unfortunate  state  of  Mr. 
Falkland's  mind.  You  know  the  sternness,  reservedness,  and 
distance  of  his  manners.  If  I  had  no  other  reasons,  surely 
it  would  afford  small  presumption  of  criminality  that  I 
should  wish  to  change  his  service  for  another. 

"The  question  of  how  these  articles  of  Mr.  Falkland's 
property  came  to  be  found  in  my  possession  is  more  mate- 
rial. It  is  a  question  I  am  wholly  unable  to  answer.  Their 
being  found  there  was  at  least  as  unexpected  to  me  as  to 
any  one  of  the  persons  now  present.  I  only  know,  that  as 
I  have  the  most  perfect  assurance  of  Mr.  Falkland's  being 
conscious  of  my  innocence,  for,  observe!  I  do  not  shrink 
from  that  assertion;  I  reiterate  it  with  new  confidence — I 
therefore  firmly  and  from  my  soul  believe,  that  their  being 
there  is  of  Mr.  Falkland's  contrivance." 

I  no  sooner  said  this  than  I  was  again  interrupted  by  an 
involuntary   exclamation   from  every   one  present.     They 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  213 

looked  at  me  with  furious  glances,  as  if  they  could  have 
torn  me  to  pieces.    I  proceeded: — 

"I  have  now  answered  everything  that  is  alleged  against 
me. 

"Mr.  Forester,  you  are  a  lover  of  justice;  I  conjure  you 
not  to  violate  it  in  my  person.  You  are  a  man  of  penetra-^ 
tion;  look  at  me!  do  you  see  any  of  the  marks  of  guilt? 
Recollect  all  that  has  ever  passed  under  your  observation; 
is  it  compatible  with  a  mind  capable  of  what  is  now  alleged 
against  me?  Could  a  real  criminal  have  shown  himself  so 
unabashed,  composed,  and  firm  as  I  have  now  done? 

"Fellow-servants!  Mr.  Falkland  is  a  man  of  rank  and 
fortune;  he  is  your  master.  I  am  a  poor  country  lad,  with- 
out a  friend  in  the  world.  That  is  a  ground  of  real  differ- 
ence to  a  certain  extent;  but  it  is  not  a  sufficient  ground  for 
the  subversion  of  justice.  Remember,  that  I  am  in  a  situa- 
tion that  is  not  to  be  trifled  with;  that  a  decision  given 
against  me  now,  in  a  case  in  which  I  solemnly  assure  you 
I  am  innocent,  will  for  ever  deprive  me  of  reputation  and 
peace  of  mind,  combine  the  whole  world  in  a  league  against 
me,  and  determine  perhaps  upon  my  liberty  and  my  life. 
If  you  believe — if  you  see — if  you  know,  that  I  am  innocent, 
speak  for  me.  Do  not  suffer  a  pusillanimous  timidity  to  pre- 
vent you  from  saving  a  fellow-creature  from  destruction,  who 
does  not  deserve  to  have  a  human  being  for  his  enemy.  Why 
have  we  the  power  of  speech,  but  to  communicate  our 
thoughts?  I  will  never  believe  that  a  man,  conscious  of 
innocence,  cannot  make  other  men  perceive  that  he  has 
that  thought.  Do  not  you  feel  that  my  whole  heart  tells 
me,  I  am  not  guilty  of  what  is  imputed  to  me? 

"To  you,  Mr.  Falkland,  I  have  nothing  to  say:  I  know 
you,  and  know  that  you  are  impenetrable.  At  the  very 
moment  that  you  are  urging  such  odious  charges  against 
me,  you  admire  my  resolution  and  forbearance.  But  I  have 
nothing  to  hope  from  you.  You  can  look  upon  my  ruin 
without  pity  or  remorse.     I  am  most  unfortunate  indeed 


214  ADVENTURES  OF 

in  having  to  do  with  such  an  adversary.  You  oblige  me 
to  say  ill  things  of  you;  but  I  appeal  to  your  own  heart, 
whether  my  language  is  that  of  exaggeration  or  revenge." 

Everything  that  could  be  alleged  on  either  side  being 
now  concluded,  Mr.  Forester  undertook  to  make  some  re- 
marks upon  the  whole. 

"Williams,"  said  he,  "the  charge  against  you  is  heavy;  the 
direct  evidence  strong;  the  corroborating  circumstances 
numerous  and  striking.  I  grant  that  you  have  shown  con- 
siderable dexterity  in  your  answers;  but  you  will  learn, 
young  man,  to  your  cost,  that  dexterity,  however  power- 
ful it  may  be  in  certain  cases,  will  avail  little  against  the 
stubbornness  of  truth.  It  is  fortunate  for  mankind  that 
the  empire  of  talents  has  its  limitations,  and  that  it  is 
not  in  the  power  of  ingenuity  to  subvert  the  distinctions  of 
right  and  wrong.  Take  my  word  for  it,  that  the  true  merits 
of  the  case  against  you  will  be  too  strong  for  sophistry  to 
overturn;  that  justice  will  prevail,  and  impotent  malice  be 
defeated. 

"To  you,  Mr.  Falkland,  society  is  obliged  for  having 
placed  this  black  affair  in  its  true  light.  Do  not  suffer  the 
malignant  aspersions  of  the  criminal  to  give  you  uneasiness. 
Depend  upon  it  that  they  will  be  found  of  no  weight.  I 
have  no  doubt  that  your  character,  in  the  judgment  of 
every  person  that  has  heard  them,  stands  higher  than 
ever.  We  feel  for  your  misfortune,  in  being  obliged  to  hear 
such  calumnies  from  a  person  who  has  injured  you  so 
grossly.  But  you  must  be  considered  in  that  respect  as  a 
martyr  in  the  public  cause.  The  purity  of  your  motives 
and  disposition  is  beyond  the  reach  of  malice;  and  truth 
and  equity  will  not  fail  to  award,  to  your  calumniator  in- 
famy, and  to  you  the  love  and  approbation  of  mankind. 

"I  have  now  told  you,  Williams,  what  I  think  of  your 
case.  But  I  have  no  right  to  assume  to  be  your  ultimate 
judge.  Desperate  as  it  appears  to  me,  I  will  give  you  one 
piece  of  advice,  as  if  I  were  retained  as  a  counsel  to  assist 
you.    Leave  out  of  it  whatever  tends  to  the  disadvantage  of 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  217 

Mr.  Falkland.  Defend  yourself  as  well  as  you  can,  but  uo 
not  attack  your  master.  It  is  your  business  to  create  in  j 
those  who  hear  you  a  prepossession  in  your  favour.  But  the 
recrimination  you  have  been  now  practising  will  always  cre- 
ate indignation.  Dishonesty  will  admit  of  some  palliation. 
The  deliberate  malice  you  have  now  been  showing  is  a 
thousand  times  more  atrocious.  It  proves  you  to  have  the 
mind  of  a  demon,  rather  than  of  a  felon.  Wherever  you 
shall  repeat  it,  those  who  hear  you  will  pronounce  you 
guilty  upon  that,  even  if  the  proper  evidence  against  you 
were  glaringly  defective.  If,  therefore,  you  would  consult 
your  interest,  which  seems  to  be  your  only  consideration, 
it  is  incumbent  upon  you  by  all  means  immediately  to  re- 
tract that.  If  you  desire  to  be  believed  honest,  you  must 
in  the  first  place  show  that  you  have  a  due  sense  of  merit 
in  others.  You  cannot  better  serve  your  cause  than  by 
begging  pardon  of  your  master,  and  doing  homage  to  recti- 
tude and  worth,  even  when  they  are  employed  in  vengeance 
against  you." 

It  is  easy  to  conceive  that  my  mind  sustained  an  extreme 
shock  from  the  decision  of  Mr.  Forester;  but  his  call  upon 
me  to  retract  and  humble  myself  before  my  accuser  pene- 
trated my  whole  soul  with  indignation.    I  answered: — 

"I  have  already  told  you  I  am  innocent.  I  believe  that 
I  could  not  endure  the  effort  of  inventing  a  plausible  de- 
fence if  it  were  otherwise.  You  have  just  affirmed  that  it 
is  not  in  the  power  of  ingenuity  to  subvert  the  distinctions 
of  right  and  wrong,  and  in  that  very  instant  I  find  them 
subverted.  This  is  indeed  to  me  a  very  awful  moment. 
New  to  the  world,  I  know  nothing  of  its  affairs  but  what 
has  reached  me  by  rumour,  or  is  recorded  in  books.  I 
have  come  into  it  with  all  the  ardour  and  confidence  insepa- 
rable from  my  years.  In  every  fellow-being  I  expected  to 
find  a  friend.  I  am  unpractised  in  its  wiles,  and  have 
even  no  acquaintance  with  its  injustice.  I  have  done 
nothing  to  deserve  the  animosity  of  mankind ;  but,  if  I  may 
judge  from  the  present  scene,  I  am  henceforth  to  be  de- 


ADVENTURES  OF 

214 

prived  of  the  benefits  of  integrity  arid  honour.  I  am  to  for- 
feit the  friendship  of  every  one  I  have  hitherto  known,  and 
to  be  precluded  from  the  power  of  acquiring  that  of  others. 
I  must  therefore  be  reduced  to  derive  my  satisfaction  from 
myself.  Depend  upon  it,  I  will  not  begin  that  career  by 
dishonourable  concessions.  If  I  am  to  despair  of  the  good- 
will of  other  men,  I  will  at  least  maintain  the  independence 
of  my  own  mind.  Mr.  Falkland  is  my  implacable  enemy. 
Whatever  may  be  his  merits  in  other  respects,  he  is  acting 
towards  me  without  humanity,  without  remorse,  and  with- 
out principle.  Do  you  think  I  will  ever  make  submissions 
to  a  man  by  whom  I  am  thus  treated,  that  I  will  fall  down 
at  the  feet  of  one  who  is  to  me  a  devil,  or  kiss  the  hand  that 
is  red  with  my  blood?" 

"In  that  respect,"  answered  Mr.  Forester,  "do  as  you 
shall  think  proper.  I  must  confess  that  your  firmness  and 
consistency  astonish  me.  They  add  something  to  what  I 
had  conceived  of  human  powers.  Perhaps  you  have  chosen 
the  part  which,  all  things  considered,  may  serve  your  pur- 
pose best;  though  I  think  more  moderation  would  be  more 
conciliating.  The  exterior  of  innocence  will,  I  grant,  stagger 
the  persons  who  may  have  the  direction  of  your  fate,  but 
it  will  never  be  able  to  prevail  against  plain  and  incon- 
trovertible facts.  But  I  have  done  with  you.  I  see  in  you  a 
new  instance  of  that  abuse  which  is  so  generally  made  of 
talents,  the  admiration  of  an  undiscerning  public.  I  regard 
you  with  horror.  All  that  remains  is,  that  I  should  dis- 
charge my  duty,  in  consigning  you,  as  a  monster  of  deprav- 
ity, to  the  justice  of  your  country." 

"No,"  rejoined  Mr.  Falkland,  "to  that  I  can  never  con- 
sent. I  have  put  a  restraint  upon  myself  thus  far,  be- 
cause it  was  right  that  evidence  and  inquiry  should  take 
their  course.  I  have  suppressed  all  my  habits  and  senti- 
ments, because  it  seemed  due  to  the  public  that  hypocrisy 
should  be  unmasked.  But  I  can  suffer  this  violence  no 
longer.  I  have  through  my  whole  life  interfered  to  protect, 
not  overbear,  the  sufferer;  and  I  must  do  so  now.    I  feel  not 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  217 

the  smallest  resentment  of  his  impotent  attacks  upon  my 
character;  I  smile  at  their  malice;  and  they  make  no  diminu- 
tion in  my  benevolence  to  their  author.  Let  him  say  what 
he  pleases;  he  cannot  hurt  me.  It  was  proper  that  he 
should  be  brought  to  public  shame,  that  other  people  might 
not  be  deceived  by  him  as  we  have  been.  But  there  is 
no  necessity  for  proceeding  further;  and  I  must  insist  upon 
it  that  he  be  permitted  to  depart  wherever  he  pleases.  I 
am  sorry  that  public  interest  affords  so  gloomy  a  prospect 
for  his  future  happiness." 

aMr.  Falkland,"  answered  Mr.  Forester,  "these  sentiments 
do  honour  to  your  humanity;  but  I  must  not  give  way  to 
them.  They  only  serve  to  set  in  a  stronger  light  the  venom 
of  this  serpent,  this  monster  of  ingratitude,  who  first  robs 
his  benefactor  and  then  reviles  him.  Wretch  that  you  are, 
will  nothing  move  you?  Are  you  inaccessible  to  remorse? 
Are  you  not  struck  to  the  heart  with  the  unmerited  good- 
ness of  your  master?  Vile  calumniator!  you  are  the  abhor- 
rence of  nature,  the  opprobrium  of  the  human  species,  and 
the  earth  can  only  be  freed  from  an  insupportable  burthen 
by  your  being  exterminated!  Recollect,  sir,  that  this  mon- 
ster, at  the  very  moment  that  you  are  exercising  such  un- 
exampled forbearance  in  his  behalf,  has  the  presumption  to 
charge  you  with  prosecuting  a  crime  of  which  you  know  him 
to  be  innocent,  nay,  with  having  conveyed  the  pretended 
stolen  goods  among  his  property,  for  the  express  purpose 
of  ruining  him.  By  this  unexampled  villany,  he  makes  it 
your  duty  to  free  the  world  from  such  a  pest,  and  your  in- 
terest to  admit  no  relaxing  in  your  pursuit  of  him,  lest  the 
world  should  be  persuaded  by  your  clemency  to  credit  his 
vile  insinuations." 

"I  care  not  for  the  consequences,"  replied  Mr.  Falkland ; 
"I  will  obey  the  dictates  of  my  own  mind.  I  will  never 
lend  my  assistance  to  the  reforming  mankind  by  axes  and 
gibbets.  I  am  sure  things  will  never  be  as  they  ought, 
till  honour,  and  not  law,  be  the  dictator  of  mankind,  till 
vice  be  taught  to  shrink  before  the  resistless  might  of  inborn 


218  ADVENTURES  OF 

dignity,  and  not  before  the  cold  formality  of  statutes.  If 
my  calumniator  were  worthy  of  resentment,  I  would  chastise 
him  with  my  own  sword,  and  not  that  of  the  magistrate; 
but  in  the  present  case  I  smile  at  his  malice,  and  resolve  to 
spare  him,  as  the  generous  lord  of  the  forest  spares  the  in- 
sect that  would  dare  to  disturb  his  repose." 

"The  language  you  now  hold,"  said  Mr.  Forester,  "is  that 
of  romance,  and  not  of  reason.  Yet  I  cannot  but  be  struck 
with  the  contrast  exhibited  before  me,  of  the  magnanimity 
of  virtue,  and  the  obstinate,  impenetrable  injustice  of  guilt. 
While  your  mind  overflows  with  goodness,  nothing  can 
touch  the  heart  of  this  thrice-refined  villain.  I  shall  never 
forgive  myself  for  having  once  been  entrapped  by  his  de- 
testable arts.  This  is  no  time  for  us  to  settle  the  question 
between  chivalry  and  law.  I  shall  therefore  simply  insist  as 
a  magistrate,  having  taken  the  evidence  in  this  felony,  upon 
my  right  and  duty  of  following  the  course  of  justice,  and 
committing  the  accused  to  the  county  jail." 

After  some  further  contest  Mr.  Falkland,  finding  Mr. 
Forester  obstinate  and  impracticable,  withdrew  his  opposi- 
tion. Accordingly  a  proper  officer  was  summoned  from  the 
neighbouring  village,  a  mittimus  made  out,  and  one  of  Mr. 
Falkland's  carriages  prepared  to  conduct  me  to  the  place 
of  custody.  It  will  easily  be  imagined  that  this  sudden  re- 
verse was  very  painfully  felt  by  me.  I  looked  round  on  the 
servants  who  had  been  the  spectators  of  my  examination,  but 
not  one  of  them,  either  by  word  or  gesture,  expressed 
compassion  for  my  calamity.  The  robbery  of  which  I  was 
accused  appeared  to  them  atrocious  from  its  magnitude; 
and  whatever  sparks  of  compassion  might  otherwise  have 
sprung  up  in  their  ingenuous  and  undisciplined  minds  were 
totally  obliterated  by  indignation  at  my  supposed  profligacy 
in  recriminating  upon  their  worthy  and  excellent  master. 
My  fate  being  already  determined,  and  one  of  the  servants 
despatched  for  the  officer,  Mr.  Forester  and  Mr.  Falkland 
withdrew,  and  left  me  in  the  custody  of  two  others. 

One  of  these  was  the  son  of  a  farmer  at  no  great  distance, 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  219 

who  had  been  in  habits  of  long-established  intimacy  with 
my  late  father.  I  was  willing  accurately  to  discover  the 
state  of  mind  of  those  who  had  been  witnesses  of  this  scene, 
and  who  had  had  some  previous  opportunity  of  observing 
my  character  and  manners.  I  therefore  endeavoured  to  open 
a  conversation  with  him.  "Well,  my  good  Thomas,"  said  I, 
in  a  querulous  tone,  and  with  a  hesitating  manner,  "am  I 
not  a  most  miserable  creaure?" 

"Do  not  speak  to  me,  Master  Williams!  You  have 
given  me  a  shock  that  I  shall  not  get  the  better  of  for  one 
while.  You  were  hatched  by  a  hen,  as  the  saying  is, 
but  you  came  of  the  spawn  of  a  cockatrice.  I  am  glad  to 
my  heart  that  honest  farmer  Williams  is  dead ;  your  villany 
would  else  have  made  him  curse  the  day  that  ever  he  was 
born." 

"Thomas,  I  am  innocent!  I  swear  by  the  great  God  that 
shall  judge  me  another  day,  I  am  innocent!" 

"Pray,  do  not  swear!  for  goodness'  sake,  do  not  swear! 
Your  poor  soul  is  damned  enough  without  that.  For  your 
sake,  lad,  I  will  never  take  anybody's  word,  nor  trust  to 
appearances,  thof  it  should  be  an  angel.  Lord  bless  us!  how 
smoothly  you  palavered  it  over,  for  all  the  world  as  if  you 
had  been  as  fair  as  a  newborn  babe!  But  it  will  not  do; 
you  will  never  be  able  to  persuade  people  that  black  is 
white.  For  my  own  part,  I  have  done  with  you.  I  loved 
you  yesterday,  all  one  as  if  you  had  been  my  own  brother. 
To-day  I  love  you  so  well,  that  I  would  go  ten  miles  with 
all  the  pleasure  in  life  to  see  you  hanged." 

"Good  God,  Thomas!  have  you  the  heart?  What  a 
change!  I  call  God  to  witness,  I  have  done  nothing  to  de- 
serve it!    What  a  world  do  we  live  in!" 

"Hold  your  tongue,  boy!  It  makes  my  very  heart  sick 
to  hear  you!  I  would  not  lie  a  night  under  the  same  roof 
with  you  for  all  the  world!  I  should  expect  the  house  to 
fall  and  crush  such  wickedness!  I  admire  that  the  earth 
does  not  open  and  swallow  you  alive!  It  is  poison  so  much 
as  to  look  at  you!     If  you  go  on  at  this  hardened  rate,  I 


220 


CALEB  WILLIAMS 


v 


believe  from  my  soul  that  the  people  you  talk  to  will  tear 
you  to  pieces,  and  you  will  never  live  to  come  to  the  gallows. 
Oh  yes,  you  do  well  to  pity  yourself;  poor  tender  thing! 
that  spit  venom  all  round  you  like  a  toad,  and  leave  the  very 
ground  upon  which  you  crawl  infected  with  your  slime." 

Finding  the  person  with  whom  I  talked  thus  impenetrable 
to  all  I  could  say,  and  considering  that  the  advantage  to 
be  gained  was  small,  even  if  I  could  overcome  his  preposses- 
sion, I  took  his  advice,  and  was  silent.  It  was  not  much 
longer  before  everything  was  prepared  for  my  departure, 
and  I  was  conducted  to  the  same  prison  which  had  so  lately 
^  ttlfr  """^trhed  and  innocent  ^ajzkjasfls^  Thpv  tnn 
J^d  been  the  victims  of  Mr.  Falkland.  Ije  exhihffieJTupl-. 
a  contracted  scale  WeTS^HuTnT which  the  truth  ol  dWlliui"** 
tion  was  faithfully  sustained,  a  copy  of  what  monarchs  are, 
who  reckon  among  the  instruments  of  their  power  prisons  of 
state. 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-THREE 

FOR  my  own  part,  I  had  never  seen  a  prison,  and,  like 
the  majority  of  my  brethren,  had  given  myself  little* 
concern  to  inquire  what  was  the  condition  of  those 
who  committed  offence  against,  or  became  obnoxious  to  sus- 
picion from,  the  community.  Oh,  how  enviable  is  the  most 
tottering  shed  under  which  the  labourer  retires  to  rest, 
compared  with  the  residence  of  these  walls! 

To  me  everything  was  new, — the  massy  doors,  the  re- 
sounding locks,  the  gloomy  passages,  the  grated  windows, 
and  the  characteristic  looks  of  the  keepers,  accustomed  to 
reject  every  petition,  and  to  steel  their  hearts  against  feeling 
and  pity.  Curiosity  and  a  sense  of  my  situation  induced 
me  to  fix  my  eyes  on  the  faces  of  these  men;  but  in  a  few 
minutes  I  drew  them  away  with  unconquerable  loathing. 
It  is  impossible  to  describe  the  sort  of  squalidness  and  filth 
with  which  these  mansions  are  distinguished.  I  have  seen 
dirty  faces  in  dirty  apartments,  which  have  nevertheless 
borne  the  impression  of  health,  and  spoke  carelessness  and 
levity  rather  than  distress.  But  the  dirt  of  a  prison  speaks 
sadness  to  the  heart,  and  appears  to  be  already  in  a  state  of 
putridity  and  infection. 

I  was  detained  for  more  than  an  hour  in  the  apartment  of 
the  keeper,  one  turnkey  after  another  coming  in,  that  they 
might  make  themselves  familiar  with  my  person.  As  I  was 
already  considered  as  guilty  of  felony  to  a  considerable 
amount,  I  underwent  a  rigorous  search,  and  they  took 
from  me  a  penknife,  a  pair  of  scissors,  and  that  part  of  my 
money  which  was  in  gold.  It  was  debated  whether  or  not 
these  should  be  sealed  up,  to  be  returned  to  me,  as  they 
said,  as  soon  as  I  should  be  acquitted;  and  had  I  not  dis- 
played an  unexpected  firmness  of  manner  and  vigour  of  ex- 
postulation, such  is  probably  the  conduct  that  would  have 

221 


222  ADVENTURES  OF 

been  pursued.  Having  undergone  these  ceremonies,  I  was 
thrust  into  a  day-room,  in  which  all  the  persons  then  under 
confinement  for  felony  were  assembled,  to  the  number  of 
eleven.  Each  of  them  was  too  much  .engaged  in  his  own 
reflections  to  take  notice  of  me.  Of  these,  two  were  im- 
prisoned for  horse-stealing,  and  three  for  having  stolen  a 
sheep,  one  for  shop-lifting,  one  for  coining,  two  for  highway- 
robbery,  and  two  for  burglary. 

The  horse-stealers  were  engaged  in  a  game  at  cards,  which 
was  presently  interrupted  by  a  difference  of  opinion, 
attended  with  great  vociferation,— they  calling  upon  one 
and  another  to  decide  it,  to  no  purpose;  one  paying  no 
attention  to  their  summons,  and  another  leaving  them  in  the 
midst  of  their  story,  being  no  longer  able  to  endure  his  own 
internal  anguish,  in  the  midst  of  their  mummery. 

It  is  a  custom  among  thieves  to  constitute  a  sort  of  mock 
tribunal  of  their  own  body,  from  whose  decision  every  one 
is  informed  whether  he  shall  be  acquitted,  respited,  or 
pardoned,  as  well  as  respecting  the  supposed  most  skilful 
way  of  conducting  his  defence.  One  of  the  house-breakers, 
who  had  already  passed  this  ordeal,  and  was  stalking  up 
and  down  the  room  with  a  forced  bravery,  exclaimed  to  his 
companion  that  he  was  as  rich  as  the  Duke  of  Bedford 
himself.  He  had  five  guineas  and  a  half,  which  was  as 
much  as  he  could  possibly  spend  in  the  course  of  the  en- 
suing month;  and  what  happened  after  that  it  was  Jack 
Ketch's  business  to  see  to,  not  his.  As  he  uttered  these 
words,  he  threw  himself  abruptly  upon  a  bench  that 
was  near  him,  and  seemed  to  be  asleep  in  a  moment.  But 
his  sleep  was  uneasy  and  disturbed,  his  breathing  was  hard, 
and  at  intervals  had  rather  the  nature  of  a  groan.  A  young 
fellow  from  the  other  side  of  the  room  came  softly  to  the 
place  where  he  lay,  with  a  large  knife  in  his  hand,  and 
pressed  the  back  of  it  with  such  violence  upon  his  neck,  the 
head  hanging  over  the  side  of  the  bench,  that  it  was  not 
till  after  several  efforts  that  he  was  able  to  rise.  "Oh, 
Jack!"  cried  this  manual  jester,  "I  had  almost  done  your 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  223 

business  for  you!"  The  other  expressed  no  marks  of  re- 
sentment, but  sullenly  answered,  "Damn  you,  why  did  not 
you  take  the  edge?  It  would  have  been  the  best  thing  you 
have  done  this  many  a  day!"1 

The  case  of  one  of  the  persons  committed  for  highway- 
robbery  was  not  a  little  extraordinary.  He  was  a  common 
soldier  of  a  most  engaging  physiognomy,  and  two-and- 
twenty  years  of  age.  The  prosecutor,  who  had  been  robbed 
one  evening,  as  he  returned  late  from  the  alehouse,  of  the 
sum  of  three  shillings,  swore  positively  to  his  person.  The 
character  of  the  prisoner  was  such  as  has  seldom  been 
equalled.  He  had  been  ardent  in  the  pursuit  of  intellectual 
cultivation,  and  was  accustomed  to  draw  his  favourite 
amusement  from  the  works  of  Virgil  and  Horace.  The 
humbleness  of  his  situation,  combined  with  his  ardour  for 
literature,  only  served  to  give  an  inexpressible  heightening  to 
the  interestingness  of  his  character.  He  was  plain  and  un- 
affected; he  assumed  nothing;  he  was  capable,  when  occa- 
sion demanded,  of  firmness,  but  in  his  ordinary  deportment 
he  seemed  unarmed  and  unresisting,  unsuspicious  of  guile 
in  others,  as  he  was  totally  free  from  guile  in  himself.  His 
integrity  was  proverbially  great.  In  one  instance  he  had 
been  intrusted  by  a  lady  to  convey  a  sum  of  a  thousand 
pounds  to  a  person  at  some  miles'  distance;  in  another,  he 
was  employed  by  a  gentleman,  during  his  absence,  in  the 
care  of  his  house  and  furniture,  to  the  value  of  at  least  five 
times  that  sum.  His  habits  of  thinking  were  strictly  his 
own,  full  of  justice,  simplicity,  and  wisdom.  He  from  time 
to  time  earned  money  of  his  officers,  by  his  peculiar  excel- 
lence in  furbishing  arms;  but  he  declined  offers  that  had 
been  made  him  to  become  a  sergeant  or  a  corporal,  saying 
that  he  did  not  want  money,  and  that  in  a  new  situation 
he  should  have  less  leisure  for  study.  He  was  equally  con- 
stant in  refusing  presents  that  were  offered  him  by  persons 
who  had  been  struck  with  his   merit;    not   that  he   was 

1  An  incident  exactly  similar  to  this  was  witnessed  by  a  friend  of 
the  author,  a  few  years  since,  in  a  visit  to  the  prison  of  Newgate. 


224  ADVENTURES  OF 

under  the  influence  of  false  delicacy  and  pride,  but  that  he 
had  no  inclination  to  accept  that,  the  want  of  which  he 
did  not  feel  to  be  an  evil.  This  man  died  while  I  was  in 
prison.     I  received  his  last  breath.1 

The  whole  day  I  was  obliged  to  spend  in  the  company  of 
these  men,  some  of  them  having  really  committed  the  ac- 
tions laid  to  their  charge,  others  whom  their  ill-fortune 
had  rendered  the  victims  of  suspicion.  The  whole  was  a 
scene  of  misery,  such  as  nothing  short  of  actual  observation 
can  suggest  to  the  mind.  Some  were  noisy  and  obstreperous, 
endeavouring  by  a  false  bravery  to  keep  at  bay  the  remem- 
brance of  their  condition;  while  others,  incapable  even  of 
this  effort,  had  the  torment  of  their  thoughts  aggravated  by 
the  perpetual  noise  and  confusion  that  prevailed  around 
them.  In  the  faces  of  those  who  assumed  the  most  courage 
you  might  trace  the  furrows  of  anxious  care;  and  in  the 
midst  of  their  laboured  hilarity  dreadful  ideas  would  ever 
and  anon  intrude,  convulsing  their  features,  and  working 
every  line  into  an  expression  of  the  keenest  agony.  To 
these  men  the  sun  brought  no  return  of  joy.  Day  after 
day  rolled  on,  but  their  state  was  immutable.  Existence 
was  to  them  a  scene  of  invariable  melancholy ;  every  moment 
was  a  moment  of  anguish;  yet  did  they  wish  to  prolong 
that  moment,  fearful  that  the  coming  period  would  bring 
a  severer  fate.  They  thought  of  the  past  with  insupport- 
able repentance,  each  man  contented  to  give  his  right  hand 
to  have  again  the  choice  of  that  peace  and  liberty  which 
he  had  unthinkingly  bartered  away.  We  talk  of  instru- 
ments of  torture;  Englishmen  take  credit  to  themselves  for 
having  banished  the  use  of  them  from  their  happy  shore! 
Alas !  he  that  has  observed  the  secrets  of  a  prison  well  knows 
that  there  is  more  torture  in  the  lingering  existence  of  a 
criminal,  in  the  silent  intolerable  minutes  that  he  spends, 
than  in  the  tangible  misery  of  whips  and  racks! 

Such  were  our  days.    At  sunset  our  jailers  appeared,  and 

1  A  story  extremely  similar  to  this  is  to  be  found  in  the  Newgate 
Calendar,  vol.  i.  p.  382. 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  225 

ordered  each  man  to  come  away,  and  be  locked  into  his 
dungeon.  It  was  a  bitter  aggravation  of  our  fate  to  be  under 
the  arbitrary  control  of  these  follows.  They  felt  no  man's 
sorrow;  they  were  of  all  men  least  capable  of  any  sort  of 
feeling.  They  had  a  barbarous  and  sullen  pleasure  in  issuing 
their  detested  mandates,  and  observing  the  mournful  re- 
luctance with  which  they  were  obeyed.  Whatever  they 
directed,  it  was  in  vain  to  expostulate;  fetters,  and  bread 
and  water,  were  the  sure  consequences  of  resistance.  Their 
tyranny  had  no  other  limit  than  their  own  caprice.  To 
whom  shall  the  unfortunate  felon  appeal?  To  what  pur- 
pose complain,  when  his  complaints  are  sure  to  be  received 
with  incredulity?  A  tale  of  mutiny  and  necessary  precau- 
tion is  the  unfailing  refuge  of  the  keeper,  and  this  tale  is  an 
everlasting  bar  against  redress. 

Our  dungeons  were  cells,  seven  and  a  half  feet  by  six 
and  a  half,  below  the  surface  of  the  ground,  damp,  without 
window,  light,  or  air,  except  from  a  few  holes  worked  for 
that  purpose  in  the  door.  In  some  of  these  miserable  re- 
ceptacles three  persons  were  put  to  sleep  together.1  I  was 
fortunate  enough  to  have  one  to  myself.  It  was  now  the 
approach  of  winter.  We  were  not  allowed  to  have  candles, 
and,  as  I  have  already  said,  were  thrust  in  here  at  sunset, 
and  not  liberated  till  the  returning  day.  This  was  our 
situation  for  fourteen  or  fifteen  hours  out  of  the  four-and- 
twenty.  I  had  never  been  accustomed  to  sleep  more  than 
six  or  seven  hours,  and  my  inclination  to  sleep  was  now 
less  than  ever.  Thus  was  I  reduced  to  spend  half  my  day 
in  this  dreary  abode,  and  in  complete  darkness.  This  was 
no  trifling  aggravation  of  my  lot. 

Among  my  melancholy  reflections  I  tasked  my  memory, 
and  counted  over  the  doors,  the  locks,  the  bolts,  the  chains, 
the  massy  walls,  and  grated  windows,  that  were  between 
me  and  liberty.  "These,"  said  I,  "are  the  engines  that 
tyranny  sits  down  in  cold  and  serious  meditation  to  invent. 
This  is  the  empire  that  man  exercises  over  man.    Thus  is  a 

1  See  Howard  on  Prisons. 


226  ADVENTURES  OF 

being,  formed  to  expatiate,  to  act,  to  smile,  and  enjoy,  re- 
stricted and  benumbed.  How  great  must  be  his  depravity 
or  heedlessness,  who  vindicates  this  scheme  for  changing 
health  and  gayety  and  serenity,  into  the  wanness  of  a 
dungeon,  and  the  deep  furrows  of  agony  and  despair!" 

"Thank  God,"  exclaims  the  Englishman,  "we  have  no 
Bastile!  Thank  God,  with  us  no  man  can  be  punished 
without  a  crime! "  Unthinking  wretch!  Is  that  a  country  of 
liberty  where  thousands  languish  in  dungeons  and  fetters? 
Go,  go,  ignorant  fool!  and  visit  the  scenes  of  our  prisons! 
witness  their  unwholesomeness,  their  filth,  the  tyranny  of 
their  governors,  the  misery  of  their  inmates!  After  that, 
show  me  the  man  shameless  enough  to  triumph,  and  say, 
England  has  no  Bastile!  Is  there  any  charge  so  frivolous, 
upon  which  men  are  not  consigned  to  those  detested  abodes? 
Is  there  any  villany  that  is  not  practised  by  justices  and 
prosecutors?  But  against  all  this  perhaps  you  have  been 
told  there  is  redress.  Yes:  a  redress  that  it  is  the  consum- 
mation of  insult  so  much  as  to  name!  Where  shall  the  poor 
wretch  reduced  to  the  last  despair,  and  to  whom  acquittal 
perhaps  comes  just  time  enough  to  save  him  from  perishing, 
— where  shall  this  man  find  leisure,  and  much  less  money, 
to  fee  counsel  and  officers,  and  purchase  the  tedious  dear- 
bought  remedy  of  the  law?  No;  he  is  too  happy  to  leave 
his  dur  ^eon,  and  the  memory  of  his  dungeon,  behind  him; 
anduthe  same  tyranny  and  wanton  oppression  become  the 
inheritance  of  his  successor. 

For  myself,  I  looked  round  upon  my  walls,  and  forward 
upon  the  premature  death  I  had  too  much  reason  to  expect: 
I  consulted  my  own  heart,  that  whispered  nothing  but  inno- 
cence; and  I  said,  "This  is  society.  This  is  the  object, 
the  distribution  of  justice,  which  is  the  end  of  human  reason. 
For  this  sages  have  toiled,  and  midnight  oil  has  been  wasted. 
—This!" 

The  reader  will  forgive  this  digression  from  the  immediate 
subject  of  my  story.  If  it  should  be  said  these  are  general 
remarks,  let  it  be  remembered  that  they  are  the  dear-bought 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  227 

result  of  experience.  It  is  from  the  fulness  of  a  bursting 
heart  that  reproach  thus  flows  to  my  pen.  These  are  not  the 
declamations  of  a  man  desirous  to  be  eloquent.  I  have  felt 
the  iron  of  slavery  grating  upon  my  soul. 

I  believed  that  misery  more  pure  than  that  which  I  now 
endured  had  never  fallen  to  the  lot  of  a  human  being.  I 
recollected  with  astonishment  my  puerile  eagerness  to  be 
brought  to  the  test,  and  have  my  innocence  examined.  I 
execrated  it  as  the  vilest  and  most  insufferable  pedantry.  I 
exclaimed,  in  the  bitterness  of  my  heart,  "Of  what  value  is 
a  fair  fame?  It  is  the  jewel  of  men  formed  to  be^mused 
with  "Baubles.     Without  it,  I  might  have  had  serenity  of 


heart  and  cheerfulness  of  occupation,  peace,  and  liberty; 
why  should  I  consign  my  happiness  to  other  men's  arbitra- 
tion? But  if  a  fair  fame  were  of  the  most  inexpressible 
value,  is  this  the  method  which  common  sense  would  pre- 
scribe to  retrieve  it?  The  language  which  these  institutions 
hold  out  to  the  unfortunate  is,  'Come,  and  be  shut  out  from 
the  light  of  day ;  be  the  associate  of  those  whom  society  has 
marked  out  for  her  abhorrence,  be  the  slave  of  jailers,  be 
loaded  with  fetters;  thus  shall  you  be  cleared  from  every 
unworthy  aspersion,  and  restored  to  reputation  and  honour ! ' 
This  is  the  consolation  she  affords  to  those  whom  malignity 
or  folly,  private  pique  or  unfounded  positiveness,  have,  with- 
out the  smallest  foundation,  loaded  with  calumny."  For 
myself,  I  felt  my  own  innocence;  and  I  soon  found,  upon 
inquiry,  that  three-fourths  of  those  who  are  regularly  sub- 
jected to  a  similar  treatment  are  persons  whom,  even  with 
all  the  superciliousness  and  precipitation  of  our  courts  of 
justice,  no  evidence  can  be  found  sufficient  to  convict. 
How  slender  then  must  be  that  man's  portion  of  informa- 
tion and  discernment  who  is  willing  to  commit  his  character 
and  welfare  to  such  guardianship! 

But  my  case  was  even  worse  than  this.  I  intimately  felt 
that  a  trial,  such  as  our  institutions  have  hitherto  been  able 
to  make  it,  is  only  the  worthy  sequel  of  such  a  beginning. 
What  chance  was  there,  after  the  purgation  I  was  now  suffer- 


228  ADVENTURES  OF 

ing,  that  I  should  come  out  acquitted  at  last?  What  proba- 
bility was  there  that  the  trial  I  had  endured  in  the  house  of 
Mr.  Falkland  was  not  just  as  fair  as  any  that  might  be  ex- 
pected to  follow?    No;  I  anticipated  my  own  condemnation. 

Thus  was  I  cut  off  for  ever  from  all  that  existence  has  to 
bestow — from  all  the  high  hopes  I  had  so  often  conceived — 
from  all  the  future  excellence  my  soul  so  much  delighted  to 
imagine, — to  spend  a  few  weeks  in  a  miserable  prison,  and 
then  to  perish  by  the  hand  of  the  public  executioner.  No 
language  can  do  justice  to  the  indignant  and  soul-sickening 
loathing  that  these  ideas  excited.  My  resentment  was  not 
restricted  to  my  prosecutor,  but  extended  itself  to  the 
whole  machine  of  society.  I  could  never  believe  that  all 
this  was  the  fair  result  of  institutions  inseparable  from  the 
general  good.  I  regarded  the  whole  human  species  as  so 
many  hangmen  and  torturers;  I  considered  them  as  confed- 
erated to  tear  me  to  pieces;  and  this  wide  scene  of  inexor- 
able persecution  inflicted  upon  me  inexpressible  agony.  I 
looked  on  this  side  and  on  that:  I  was  innocent;  I  had  a 
right  to  expect  assistance;  but  every  heart  was  steeled 
against  me;  every  hand  was  ready  to  lend  its  force  to  make 
my  ruin  secure.  No  man  that  has  not  felt,  in  his  own 
most  momentous  concerns,  justice,  eternal  truth,  unalterable 
equity  engaged  in  his  behalf,  and  on  the  other  side  brute 
force,  impenetrable  obstinacy,  and  unfeeling  insolence,  can 
imagine  the  sensations  that  then  passed  through  my  mind. 
I  saw  treachery  triumphant  and  enthroned ;  I  saw  the  sinews 
of  innocence  crumbled  into  dust  by  the  gripe  of  almighty 
guilt. 

What  relief  had  I  from  these  sensations?  Was  it  relief, 
that  I  spent  the  day  in  the  midst  of  profligacy  and  execra- 
tions— that  I  saw  reflected  from  every  countenance  agonies 
only  inferior  to  my  own?  He  that  would  form  a  lively  idea 
of  the  regions  of  the  damned  need  only  to  witness,  for  six 
hours,  a  scene  to  which  I  was  confined  for  many  months. 
Not  for  one  hour  could  I  withdraw  myself  from  this  com- 
plexity of  horrors,  or  take  refuge  in  the  calmness  of  medi- 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  229 

tation.  Air,  exercise,  series,  contrast,  those  grand  enliveners 
of  the  human  frame,  I  was  for  ever  debarred  from,  by  the 
inexorable  tyranny  under  which  I  was  fallen.  Nor  did  I 
find  the  solitude  of  my  nightly  dungeon  less  insupportable. 
Its  only  furniture  was  the  straw  that  served  me  for  my  re- 
pose. It  was  narrow,  damp,  and  unwholesome.  The  slum- 
bers of  a  mind,  wearied,  like  mine,  with  the  most  detestable 
uniformity,  to  whom  neither  amusement  nor  occupation  ever 
offered  themselves  to  beguile  the  painful  hours,  were  short, 
disturbed,  and  unrefreshing.  My  sleeping  still  more  than 
my  waking  thoughts  were  full  of  perplexity,  deformity,  and 
disorder.  To  these  slumbers  succeeded  the  hours  which, 
by  the  regulations  of  our  prison,  I  was  obliged,  though 
awake,  to  spend  in  solitary  and  cheerless  darkness.  Here  I 
had  neither  books  nor  pens,  nor  anything  upon  which  to 
engage  my  attention ;  all  was  a  sightless  blank.  How  was  a 
mind,  active  and  indefatigable  like  mine,  to  endure  this 
misery?  I  could  not  sink  it  in  lethargy;  I  could  not  forget 
my  woes:  they  haunted  me  with  unintermitted  and  demoniac 
malice.  Cruel,  inexorable  policy  of  human  affairs,  that  con- 
demns a  man  to  torture  like  this;  that  sanctions  it,  and 
knows  not  what  is  done  under  its  sanction ;  that  is  too  supine 
and  unfeeling  to  inquire  into  these  petty  details;  that  calls 
this  the  ordeal  of  innocence,  and  the  protector  of  freedom! 
A  thousand  times  I  could  have  dashed  my  brains  against 
the  walls  of  my  dungeon;  a  thousand  times  I  longed  for 
death,  and  wished,  with  inexpressible  ardour,  for  an  end  to 
what  I  suffered;  a  thousand  times  I  meditated  suicide,  and 
ruminated,  in  the  bitterness  of  my  soul,  upon  the  different 
means  of  escaping  from  the  load  of  existence.  What  had  I 
to  do  with  life?  I  had  seen  enough  to  make  me  regard  it 
with  detestation.  Why  should  I  wait  the  lingering  process 
of  legal  despotism,  and  not  dare  so  much  as  to  die,  but  when 
and  how  its  instruments  decreed?  Still  some  inexplicable 
suggestion  withheld  my  hand.  I  clung  with  desperate  fond- 
ness to  this  shadow  of  existence,  its  mysterious  attractions, 
and  its  hopeless  prospects. 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-FOUR 

SUCH  were  the  reflections  that  haunted  the  first  days 
of  my  imprisonment,  in  consequence  of  which  they 
were  spent  in  perpetual  anguish.  But,  after  a  time, 
nature,  wearied  with  distress,  would  no  longer  stoop  to  the 
burthen;  thought,  which  is  incessantly  varying,  introduced 
a  series  of  reflections  totally  different. 

My  fortitude  revived.  I  had  always  been  accustomed  to 
cheerfulness,  good-humour,  and  serenity;  and  this  habit  now 
returned  to  visit  me  at  the  bottom  of  my  dungeon.  No 
sooner  did  my  contemplations  take  this  turn,  than  I  saw 
the  reasonableness  and  possibility  of  tranquillity  and  peace; 
and  my  mind  whispered  to  me  the  propriety  of  showing,  in 
this  forlorn  condition,  that  I  was  superior  to  all  my  perse- 
cutors. Blessed  state  of  innocence  and  self -approbation! 
The  sunshine  of  conscious  integrity  pierced  through  all  the 
barriers  of  my  cell,  and  spoke  ten  thousand  times  more  joy 
to  my  heart  than  the  accumulated  splendours  of  nature  and 
art  can  communicate  to  the  slaves  of  vice. 

I  found  out  the  secret  of  employing  my  mind.  I  said,  "I 
am  shut  up  for  half  the  day  in  total  darkness,  without  any 
external  source  of  amusement;  the  other  half  I  spend  in  the 
midst  of  noise,  turbulence,  and  confusion.  What  then?  Can 
I  not  draw  amusement  from  the  stores  of  my  own  mind?  Is 
it  not  freighted  with  various  knowledge?  Have  I  not  been 
employed  from  my  infancy  in  gratifying  an  insatiable  curi- 
osity? When  should  I  derive  benefit  from  these  superior 
advantages,  if  not  at  present?"  Accordingly,  I  tasked  the 
stores  of  my  memory,  and  my  powers  of  invention.  I  amused 
myself  with  recollecting  the  history  of  my  life.  By  degrees 
I  called  to  mind  a  number  of  minute  circumstances,  which, 

230 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  231 

but  for  this  exercise,  would  have  been  for  ever  forgotten. 
I  repassed  in  my  thoughts  whole  conversations,  I  recollected 
their  subjects,  their  arrangement,  their  incidents,  frequently 
their  very  words.  I  mused  upon  these  ideas,  till  I  was  to- 
tally absorbed  in  thought.  I  repeated  them,  till  my  mind 
glowed  with  enthusiasm,  I  had  my  different  employments, 
fitted  for  the  solitude  of  the  night,  in  which  I  could  give  full 
scope  to  the  impulses  of  my  mind ;  and  for  the  uproar  of  the 
day,  in  which  my  chief  object  was,  to  be  insensible  to  the 
disorder  with  which  I  was  surrounded. 

By  degrees  I  quitted  my  own  story,  and  employed  myself 
in  imaginary  adventures.  I  figured  to  myself  every  situa- 
tion in  which  I  could  be  placed,  and  conceived  the  conduct 
to  be  observed  in  each.  Thus  scenes  of  insult  and  danger, 
of  tenderness  and  oppression,  became  familiar  to  me.  In 
fancy  I  often  passed  the  awful  hour  of  dissolving  nature. 
In  some  of  my  reveries  I  boiled  with  impetuous  indignation, 
and  in  others  patiently  collected  the  whole  force  of  my  mind 
for  some  fearful  encounter.  I  cultivated  the  powers  of  ora- 
tory suited  to  these  different  states,  and  improved  more  in 
eloquence  in  the  solitude  of  my  dungeon  than  perhaps  I 
should  have  done  in  the  busiest  and  most  crowded  scenes. 

At  length  I  proceeded  to  as  regular  a  disposition  of  my 
time  as  the  man  in  his  study,  who  passes  from  mathematics 
to  poetry,  and  from  poetry  to  the  law  of  nations,  in  the  dif- 
ferent parts  of  each  single  day;  and  I  as  seldom  infringed 
upon  my  plan.  Nor  were  my  subjects  of  disquisition  less 
numerous  than  his.  I  went  over,  by  the  assistance  of  mem- 
ory only,  a  considerable  part  of  Euclid  during  my  confine- 
ment, and  revived,  day  after  day,  the  series  of  facts  and  in- 
cidents in  some  of  the  most  celebrated  historians.  I  became 
myself  a  poet;  and  while  I  described  the  sentiments  cher- 
ished by  the  view  of  natural  objects,  recorded  the  characters 
and  passions  of  men,  and  partook  with  a  burning  zeal  in  the 
generosity  of  their  determinations,  I  eluded  the  squalid 
solitude  of  my  dungeon,  and  wandered  in  idea  through  all 
the  varieties  of  human  society.     I  easily  found  expedients, 


232  ADVENTURES  OF 

such  as  the  mind  seems  always  to  require,  and  which  books 
and  pens  supply  to  the  man  at  large,  to  record  from  time  to 
time  the  progress  that  had  been  made. 

While  I  was  thus  employed,  I  reflected  with  exultation 
upon  the  degree  h>  which  man  is  independent  of  the  smiles 
and  frowns  of  fortune.  I  was  beyond  her  reach,  for  I  could 
fall  no  lower.  To  an  ordinary  eye  I  might  seem  destitute 
and  miserable,  but  in  reality  I  wanted  for  nothing.  My  fare 
was  coarse,  but  I  was  in  health.  My  dungeon  was  noisome, 
but  I  felt  no  inconvenience.  I  was  shut  up  from  the  usual 
means  of  exercise  and  air,  but  I  found  the  method  of  ex- 
ercising myself  even  to  perspiration  in  my  dungeon.  I  had 
no  power  of  withdrawing  my  person  from  a  disgustful  so- 
ciety, in  the  most  cheerful  and  valuable  part  of  the  day; 
but  I  soon  brought  to  perfection  the  art  of  withdrawing  my 
thoughts,  and  saw  and  heard  the  people  about  me  for  just 
as  short  a  time,  and  as  seldom,  as  I  pleased. 

Such  is  man  in  himself  considered;  so  simple  his  nature; 
so  few  his  wants.  How  different  from  the  man  of  artificial 
society!  Palaces  are  built  for  his  reception,  a  thousand 
vehicles  provided  for  his  exercise,  provinces  are  ransacked 
for  the  gratification  of  his  appetite,  and  the  whole  world 
traversed  to  supply  him  with  apparel  and  furniture.  Thus 
vast  is  his  expenditure,  and  the  purchase  slavery.  He  is 
dependent  on  a  thousand  accidents  for  tranquillity  and 
health,  and  his  body  and  soul  are  at  the  devotion  of  who- 
ever will  satisfy  his  imperious  cravings. 

In  addition  to  the  disadvantages  of  my  present  situation, 
I  was  reserved  for  an  ignominious  death.  What  then? 
Every  man  must  die.  No  man  knows  how  soon.  It  surely 
is  not  worse  to  encounter  the  king  of  terrors  in  health,  and 
with  every  advantage  for  the  collection  of  fortitude,  than  to 
encounter  him  already  half-subdued  by  sickness  and  suffer- 
ing. I  was  resolved,  at  least,  fully  to  possess  the  days  I 
had  to  live;  and  this  is  peculiarly  in  the  power  of  the  man 
who  preserves  his  health  to  the  last  moment  of  his  existence. 


M     I 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  233 

Why  should  I  suffer  my  mind  to  be  invaded  by  unavailing 
regrets?  Every  sentiment  of  vanity,  or  rather  of  independ- 
ence and  justice  within  me,  instigated  me  to  say  to  my  perse- 
cutor, "You  may  cut  off  my  existence,  but  you  cannot  dis- 
turb my  serenity." 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-FIVE 

IN  the  midst  of  these  reflections,  another  thought,  which 
had  not  before  struck  me,  occurred  to  my  mind.  "I 
exult,"  said  I,  "and  reasonably,  over  the  impotence  of 
my  persecutor.  Is  not  that  impotence  greater  than  I  have 
yet  imagined?  I  say,  he  may  cut  off  my  existence,  but 
cannot  disturb  my  serenity.  It  is  true:  my  mind,  the  clear- 
ness of  my  spirit,  the  firmness  of  my  temper,  are  beyond  his 
reach;  is  not  my  life  equally  so,  if  I  please?  What  are  the 
material  obstacles  that  man  never  subdued?  What  is  the 
undertaking  so  arduous,  that  by  some  has  not  been  accom- 
plished? And  if  by  others,  why  not  by  me?  Had  they 
stronger  motives  than  I?  Was  existence  more  variously 
endeared  to  them?  or  had  they  more  numerous  methods 
by  which  to  animate  and  adorn  it?  Many  of  those  who 
have  exerted  most  perseverance  and  intrepidity  were  obvi- 
ously my  inferiors  in  that  respect.  Why  should  not  I  be  as 
daring  as  they?  Adamant  and  steel  have  a  ductility  like 
water  to  a  mind  sufficiently  bold  and  contemplative.  The 
mind  is  master  of  itself;  and  is  endowed  with  powers  that 
might  enable  it  to  laugh  at  the  tyrant's  vigilance."  I  passed 
and  repassed  these  ideas  in  my  mind;  and,  heated  with  the 
contemplation,  I  said,  "No,  I  will  not  die!" 

My  reading,  in  early  youth,  had  been  extremely  miscel- 
laneous. I  had  read  of  housebreakers,  to  whom  locks  and 
bolts  were  a  jest,  and  who,  vain  of  their  art,  exhibited  the 
experiment  of  entering  a  house  the  most  strongly  barricaded, 
with  as  little  noise,  and  almost  as  little  trouble,  as  other  men 
would  lift  up  a  latch.  There  is  nothing  so  interesting  to  the 
juvenile  mind  as  the  wonderful ;  there  is  no  power  that  it  so 
eagerly  covets  as  that  of  astonishing  spectators  by  its  mi- 
raculous exertions.    Mind  appeared  to  my  untutored  reflec- 

234 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  235 

tions,  vague,  airy,  and  unfettered,  the  susceptible  perceiver 
of  reasons,  but  never  intended  by  nature  to  be  the  slave  of 
force.  Why  should  it  be  in  the  power  of  man  to  overtake 
and  hold  me  by  violence?  Why,  when  I  choose  to  with- 
draw myself,  should  I  not  be  capable  of  eluding  the  most 
vigilant  search?  These  limbs  and  this  trunk  are  a  cum- 
brous and  unfortunate  load  for  the  power  of  thinking  to 
drag  along  with  it;  but  why  should  not  the  power  of  think- 
ing be  able  to  lighten  the  load,  till  it  shall  be  no  longer  felt? 
— These  early  modes  of  reflection  were  by  no  means  indif- 
ferent to  my  present  inquiries. 

Our  next  door  neighbour  at  my  father's  house  had  been  a 
carpenter.  Fresh  from  the  sort  of  reading  I  have  men- 
tioned, I  was  eager  to  examine  his  tools,  their  powers  and 
their  uses.  This  carpenter  was  a  man  of  strong  and  vigor- 
ous mind;  and  his  faculties  having  been  chiefly  confined  to 
the  range  of  his  profession,  he  was  fertile  in  experiments, 
and  ingenious  in  reasoning  upon  these  particular  topics.  I 
therefore  obtained  from  him  considerable  satisfaction:  and, 
my  mind  being  set  in  action,  I  sometimes  even  improved 
upon  the  hints  he  furnished.  His  conversation  was  partic- 
ularly agreeable  to  me;  I  at  first  worked  with  him  some- 
times for  my  amusement,  and  afterward  occasionally  for  a 
short  time  as  his  journeyman.  I  was  constitutionally  vig- 
orous; and,  by  the  experience  thus  attained,  I  added  to  the 
abstract  possession  of  power  the  skill  of  applying  it,  when 
I  pleased,  in  such  a  manner  as  that  no  part  should  be  in- 
efficient. 

It  is  a  strange,  but  no  uncommon  feature  in  the  human 
mind,  that  the  very  resource  of  which  we  stand  in  greatest 
need  in  a  critical  situation,  though  already  accumulated,  it 
may  be,  by  preceding  industry,  fails  to  present  itself  at  the 
time  when  it  should  be  called  into  action.  Thus  my  mind 
had  passed  through  two  very  different  stages  since  my  im- 
prisonment, before  this  means  of  liberation  suggested  itself. 
My  faculties  were  overwhelmed  in  the  first  instance,  and 
raised  to  a  pitch  of  enthusiasm  in  the  second ;  while  in  both 


236  ADVENTURES  OF 

I  took  it  for  granted,  in  a  manner,  that  I  must  passively 
submit  to  the  good  pleasure  of  my  persecutors. 

During  the  period  in  which  my  mind  had  been  thus  un- 
decided, and  when  I  had  been  little  more  than  a  month  in 
durance,  the  assizes,  which  were  held  twice  a  year  in  the 
town  in  which  I  was  a  prisoner,  came  on.  Upon  this  oc- 
casion my  case  was  not  brought  forward,  but  was  suffered 
to  stand  over  six  months  longer.  It  would  have  been  just 
the  same  if  I  had  had  as  strong  reason  to  expect  acquittal  as 
I  had  conviction.  If  I  had  been  apprehended  upon  the 
most  frivolous  reasons  upon  which  any  justice  of  the  peace 
ever  thought  proper  to  commit  a  naked  beggar  for  trial,  I 
must  still  have  waited  about  two  hundred  and  seventeen 
days  before  my  innocence  could  be  cleared.  So  imperfect 
are  the  effects  of  the  boasted  laws  of  a  country  whose  legis- 
lators hold  their  assembly  from  four  to  six  months  in  every 
year!  I  could  never  discover  with  certainty  whether  this 
delay  were  owing  to  any  interference  on  the  part  of  my  pros- 
ecutor, or  whether  it  fell  out  in  the  regular  administration 
of  justice,  which  is  too  solemn  and  dignified  to  accommo- 
date itself  to  the  rights  or  benefit  of  an  insignificant  indi- 
vidual. 

But  this  was  not  the  only  incident  that  occurred  to  me 
during  my  confinement  for  which  I  could  find  no  satisfactory 
solution.  It  was  nearly  at  the  same  time  that  the  keeper 
began  to  alter  his  behaviour  to  me.  He  sent  for  me  one 
morning  into  the  part  of  the  building  which  was  appropri- 
ated for  his  own  use,  and,  after  some  hesitation,  told  me 
he  was  sorry  my  accommodations  had  been  so  indifferent, 
and  asked  whether  I  should  like  to  have  a  chamber  in  his 
family?  I  was  struck  with  the  unexpectedness  of  this  ques- 
tion, and  desired  to  know  whether  anybody  had  employed 
him  to  ask  it.  No,  he  replied ;  but  now  the  assizes  were  over, 
he  had  fewer  felons  on  his  hands,  and  more  time  to  look 
about  him.  He  believed  I  was  a  good  kind  of  a  young 
man,  and  he  had  taken  a  sort  of  a  liking  to  me.  I  fixed  my 
eye  upon  his  countenance  as  he  said  this.     I  could  discover 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  237 

none  of  the  usual  symptons  of  kindness;  he  appeared  to  me 
to  be  acting  a  part  unnatural,  and  that  sat  with  awkward- 
ness upon  him.  He  went  on,  however,  to  offer  me  the  lib- 
erty of  eating  at  his  table;  which,  if  I  chose  it,  he  said, 
would  make  no  difference  to  him,  and  he  should  not  think  of 
charging  me  anything  for  it.  He  had  always  indeed  as 
much  upon  his  hands  as  one  person  could  see  to;  but  his 
wife  and  his  daughter  Peggy  would  be  woundily  pleased  to 
hear  a  person  of  learning  talk,  as  he  understood?I  was;  and 
perhaps  I  might  not  feel  myself  unpleasantly  circumstanced 
in  their  company. 

I  reflected  on  this  proposal,  and  had  little  doubt,  not- 
withstanding what  the  keeper  had  affirmed  to  the  contrary, 
that  it  did  not  proceed  from  any  spontaneous  humanity  in 
him,  but  that  he  had,  to  speak  the  language  of  persons  of 
his  cast,  good  reasons  for  what  he  did.     I  busied  myself  in 
conjectures  as  to  who  could  be  the  author  of  this  sort  of 
ndulgence  and  attention.     The   two  most  likely  persons 
were  Mr.  Falkland  and  Mr.  Forester.    The  latter  I  knew  to 
be  a  man  austere  and  inexorable  towards  those  whom  he 
deemed  vicious.    He  piqued  himself  upon  being  insensible 
to  those  softer  emotions,  which,  he  believed,  answered  no 
other  purpose  than  to  seduce  us  from  our  duty.     Mr.  Falk- 
land, on  the  contrary,  was  a  man  of  the  acutest  sensibility ; 
hence  arose  hls-j^leasures  and  his  pains,  his^virtues  and  his' 
vices.    Though  he  were  the  bitterest  enemy  to  whom  I 
^couTd  possibly  be  exposed,  and  though  no  sentiments  of 
humanity  could  divert  or  control  the  bent  of  his  mind,  I  yet 
persuaded  myself  that  he  was  more  likely  than  his  kinsman 
to  visit  in  idea  the  scene  of  my  dungeon,  and  to  feel  im- 
pelled to  alleviate  my  sufferings. 

This  conjecture  was  by  no  means  calculated  to  serve  as 
balm  to  my  mind.  My  thoughts  were  full  of  irritation 
against  my  persecutor.  How  could  I  think  kindly  of  a  man, 
in  competition  with  the  gratification  of  whose  ruling  passion 
my  good  name  or  my  life  was  deemed  of  no  consideration? 
I  saw  him  crushing  the  one,  and  bringing  the  other  into 


238  ADVENTURES  OF 

jeopardy,  with  a  quietness  and  composure  on  his  part  that 
I  could  not  recollect  without  horror.  I  knew  not  what  were 
his  plans  respecting  me.  I  knew  not  whether  he  troubled 
himself  so  much  as  to  form  a  barren  wish  for  the  preserva- 
tion of  one  whose  future  prospects  he  had  so  iniquitously 
tarnished.  I  had  hitherto  been  silent  as  to  my  principal 
topic  of  recrimination.  But  I  was  by  no  means  certain 
that  I  should  consent  to  go  out  of  the  world  in  silence,  the 
victim  of  this  man's  obduracy  and  art.  In  every  view  I  felt 
my  heart  ulcerated  with  a  sense  of  his  injustice;  and  my 
very  soul  spurned  these  pitiful  indulgences,  at  a  time  that  he 
was  grinding  me  into  dust  with  the  inexorableness  of  his 
vengeance. 

I  was  influenced  by  these  sentiments  in  my  reply  to  the 
jailer;  and  I  found  a  secret  pleasure  in  pronouncing  them 
in  all  their  bitterness.  I  viewed  him  with  a  sarcastic  smile, 
and  said  I  was  glad  to  find  him  of  a  sudden  become  so 
humane:  I  was  not,  however,  without  some  penetrations  as 
to  the  humanity  of  a  jailer,  and  could  guess  at  the  circum- 
stances by  which  it  was  produced.  But  he  might  tell  his 
employer  that  his  cares  were  fruitless:  I  would  accept  no 
favours  from  a  man  that  held  a  halter  about  my  neck;  and 
had  courage  enough  to  endure  the  worst  both  in  time  to 
come  and  now. — The  jailer  looked  at  me  with  astonishment, 
and  turning  upon  his  heel,  exclaimed,  "Well  done,  my  cock! 
You  have  not  had  your  learning  for  nothing,  I  see.  You 
are  set  upon  not  dying  dunghill.  But  that  is  to  come,  lad; 
you  had  better  by  half  keep  your  courage  till  you  shall  find 
it  wanted." 

The  assizes,  which  passed  over  without  influence  to  me, 
produced  a  great  revolution  among  my  fellow-prisoners.  I 
lived  long  enough  in  the  jail  to  witness  a  general  mutation 
of  its  inhabitants.  One  of  the  housebreakers  (the  rival  of 
the  Duke  of  Bedford),  and  the  coiner,  were  hanged.  Two 
more  were  cast  for  transportation,  and  the  rest  acquitted. 
The  transports  remained  with  us;  and,  though  the  prison 
was  thus  lightened  of  nine  of  its  inhabitants,  there  were,  at 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  239 

the  next  half-yearly  period  of  assizes,  as  many  persons  on 
the  felons'  side,  within  three,  as  I  had  found  on  my  first 
arrival. 

The  soldier,  whose  story  I  have  already  recorded,  died  on 
the  evening  of  the  very  day  on  which  the  judges  arrived,  of 
a  disease  the  consequence  of  his  confinement.  Such  was  the 
justice  that  resulted  from  the  laws  of  his  country  to  an  in- 
dividual who  would  have  been  the  ornament  of  any  age; 
one  who,  of  all  the  men  I  ever  knew,  was  perhaps  the  kind- 
est, of  the  most  feeling  heart,  of  the  most  engaging  and  un- 
affected manners,  and  the  most  unblemished  life.  The  name 
of  this  man  was  Brightwel.  Were  it  possible  for  my  pen 
to  consecrate  him  to  never-dying  fame,  I  could  undertake  no 
task  more  grateful  to  my  heart.  His  judgment  was  pene- 
trating and  manly,  totally  unmixed  with  imbecility  and  con- 
fusion; while  at  the  same  time  there  was  such  an  uncontend- 
ing  frankness  in  his  countenance,  that  a  superficial  ob- 
server would  have  supposed  he  must  have  been  the  prey 
of  the  first  plausible  knavery  that  was  practised  against 
him.  Great  reason  have  I  to  remember  him  with  affection! 
He  was  the  most  ardent,  I  had  almost  said  the  last,  of  my 
friends.  Nor  did  I  remain  in  this  respect  in  his  debt.  There 
was  indeed  a  great  congeniality,  if  I  may  presume  to  say  so, 
in  our  characters,  except  that  I  cannot  pretend  to  rival  the 
originality  and  self-created  vigour  of  his  mind,  or  to  com- 
pare with,  what  the  world  has  scarcely  surpassed,  the  cor- 
rectness and  untainted  purity  of  his  conduct.  He  heard 
my  story,  as  far  as  I  thought  proper  to  disclose  it,  with 
interest;  he  examined  it  with  sincere  impartiality;  and  if, 
at  first,  any  doubt  remained  upon  his  mind,  a  frequent  ob- 
servation of  me  in  my  most  unguarded  moments  taught  him 
in  no  long  time  to  place  an  unreserved  confidence  in  my  in- 
nocence. 

He  talked  of  the  injustice  of  which  we  were  mutual  vic- 
tims, without  bitterness;  and  delighted  to  believe  that  the 
time  would  come  when  the  possibility  of  such  intolerable 
oppression  would  be  extirpated.     But  this,  he  said,  was 


340  ADVENTURES  OF 

a  happiness  reserved  for  posterity;  it  was  too  late  for  us  to 
reap  the  benefit  of  it.  It  was  some  consolation  to  him  that 
he  could  not  tell  the  period  in  his  past  life  which  the  best 
judgment  of  which  he  was  capable  would  teach  him  to 
spend  better.  He  could  say,  with  as  much  reason  as  most 
men,  he  had  discharged  his  duty.  But  he  foresaw  that  he 
should  not  strive  his  present  calamity.  This  was  his  pre- 
diction, while  yet  in  health.  He  might  be  said,  in  a  certain 
sense,  to  have  a  broken  heart.  But,  if  that  phrase  were  in 
any  way  applicable  to  him,  sure  never  was  despair  more 
calm,  more  full  of  resignation  and  serenity. 

At  no  time  in  the  whole  course  of  my  adventures  was  I 
exposed  to  a  shock  more  severe  than  I  received  from  this 
man's  death.  The  circumstances  of  his  fate  presented  them- 
selves to  my  mind  in  their  full  complication  of  iniquity. 
From  him,  and  the  execrations  with  which  I  loaded  the  gov- 
ernment that  could  be  the  instrument  of  his  tragedy,  I  turned 
to  myself.  I  beheld  the  castastrophe  of  Brightwel  with 
envy.  A  thousand  times  I  longed  that  my  corpse  had  lain 
in  death,  instead  of  his.  I  was  only  reserved,  as  I  persuaded 
myself,  for  unutterable  wo.  In  a  few  days  he  would  have 
been  acquitted;  his  liberty,  his  reputation  restored;  man- 
kind, perhaps,  struck  with  the  injustice  he  had  suffered, 
would  have  shown  themselves  eager  to  balance  his  misfor- 
tunes, and  obliterate  his  disgrace.  But  this  man  died;  and 
I  remained  alive!  I,  who,  though  not  less  wrongfully 
treated  than  he,  had  no  hope  of  reparation,  must  be  marked 
as  long  as  I  lived  for  a  villain,  and  in  my  death  probably 
held  up  to  the  scorn  and  detestation  of  my  species! 

Such  were  some  of  the  immediate  reflections  which  the 
fate  of  this  unfortunate  martyr  produced  in  my  mind.  Yet 
my  intercourse  with  Brightwel  was  not,  in  the  review,  with- 
out its  portion  of  comfort.  I  said,  "This  man  has  seen 
through  the  veil  of  calumny  that  overshades  me:  he  has  un- 
derstood, and  has  loved  me.  Why  should  I  despair?  May 
I  not  meet  hereafter  with  men  ingenuous  like  him,  who  shall 
do  me  justice,  and  sympathize  with  my  calamity?     With 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  241 

that  consolation  I  will  be  satisfied.  I  will  rest  in  the  arms 
of  friendship,  and  forget  the  malignity  of  the  world.  Hence- 
forth I  will  be  contented  with  tranquil  obscurity,  with  the 
cultivation  of  sentiment  and  wisdom,  and  the  exercise  of 
benevolence  within  a  narrow  circle."  It  was  thus  that  my 
mind  became  excited  to  the  project  I  was  about  to  under- 
take. 

I  had  no  sooner  meditated  the  idea  of  an  escape  than  I  de- 
termined upon  the  following  method  of  facilitating  the  prep- 
arations for  it.  I  undertook  to  ingratiate  myself  with  my 
keeper.  In  the  world  I  have  generally  found  such  persons 
as  had  been  acquainted  with  the  outline  of  my  story,  re- 
garding me  with  a  sort  of  loathing  and  abhorrence,  which 
made  them  avoid  me  with  as  much  care  as  if  I  had  been 
spotted  with  the  plague.  The  idea  of  my  having  first  robbed 
my  patron,  and  then  endeavouring  to  clear  myself  by  charg- 
ing him  with  subornation  against  me,  placed  me  in  a  class 
distinct  from,  and  infinitely  more  guilty  than,  that  of  com- 
mon felons.  But  this  man  was  too  good  a  master  of  his 
profession  to  entertain  aversion  against  a  fellow-creature 
upon  that  score.  He  considered  the  persons  committed  to 
his  custody  merely  as  so  many  human  bodies,  for  whom  he 
was  responsible  that  they  should  be  forthcoming  in  time  and 
place;  and  the  difference  of  innocence  and  guilt  he  looked 
down  upon  as  an  affair  beneath  his  attention.  I  had  not, 
therefore,  the  prejudices  to  encounter  in  recommending  my- 
self to  him,  that  I  have  found  so  peculiarly  obstinate  in 
other  cases.  Add  to  which,  the  same  motive,  whatever  it 
was,  that  had  made  him  so  profuse  in  his  offers  a  little  be- 
fore, had  probably  its  influence  on  the  present  occasion. 

I  informed  him  of  my  skill  in  the  profession  of  a  joiner, 
and  offered  to  make  him  half  a  dozen  handsome  chairs,  if 
he  would  facilitate  my  obtaining  the  tools  necessary  for 
carrying  on  my  profession  in  my  present  confinement;  for, 
without  his  consent  previously  obtained,  it  would  have  been 
in  vain  for  me  to  expect  that  I  could  quietly  exert  an  in- 
dustry of  this  kind,  even  if  my  existence  had  depended 


242  ADVENTURES  OF 

upon  it.  He  looked  at  me,  first,  as  asking  himself  what  he 
was  to  understand  by  this  novel  proposal;  and  then,  his 
countenance  most  graciously  relaxing,  said,  he  was  glad  I 
was  come  off  a  little  of  my  high  notions  and  my  buckram, 
and  he  would  see  what  he  could  do.  Two  days  after,  he 
signified  his  compliance.  He  said,  that  as  to  the  matter  of 
the  present  I  had  offered  him,  he  thought  nothing  of  that;  I 
might  do  as  I  please  in  it;  but  I  might  depend  upon  every 
civility  from  him  that  he  could  show  with  safety  to  him- 
self, if  so  be  as,  when  he  was  civil,  I  did  not  offer  a  second 
time  for  to  snap  and  take  him  up  short. 

Having  thus  gained  my  preliminary,  I  gradually  accumu- 
lated tools  of  various  sorts — gimlets,  piercers,  chisels,  et 
cetera.  I  immediately  set  myself  to  work.  The  nights 
were  long,  and  the  sordid  eagerness  of  my  keeper,  not- 
withstanding his  ostentatious  generosity,  was  great ;  I  there- 
fore petitioned  for,  and  was  indulged  with,  a  bit  of  candle, 
that  I  might  amuse  myself  for  an  hour  or  two  with  my  work 
after  I  was  locked  up  in  my  dungeon.  I  did  not,  however, 
by  any  means  apply  constantly  to  the  work  I  had  under- 
taken, and  my  jailer  betrayed  various  tokens  of  impatience. 
Perhaps  he  was  afraid  I  should  not  have  finished  it  before 
I  was  hanged.  I  however  insisted  upon  working  at  my 
leisure,  as  I  pleased;  and  this  he  did  not  venture  expressly 
to  dispute.  In  addition  to  the  advantages  thus  obtained,  I 
procured  secretly  from  Miss  Peggy,  who  now  and  then  came 
into  the  jail  to  make  her  observations  of  the  prisoners,  and 
who  seemed  to  have  conceived  some  partiality  for  my  per- 
son, the  implement  of  an  iron  crow. 

In  these  proceedings  it  is  easy  to  trace  the  vice  and  du- 
plicity that  must  be  expected  to  grow  out  of  injustice.  I 
know  not  whether  my  readers  will  pardon  the  sinister  ad- 
vantage I  extracted  from  the  mysterious  concessions  of  my 
keeper.  But  I  must  acknowledge  my  weakness  in  that  re- 
spect; I  am  writing  my  adventures,  and  not  my  apology; 
and  I  was  not  prepared  to  maintain  the  unvaried  sincerity 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  243 

of  my  manners,  at  the  expense  of  a  speedy  close  of  my  ex- 
istence. 

My  plan  was  now  digested.  I  believed,  that  by  means  of 
the  crow  I  could  easily,  and  without  much  noise,  force  the 
door  of  my  dungeon  from  its  hinges,  or,  if  not,  that  I  could, 
in  case  of  necessity,  cut  away  the  lock.  This  door  led  into 
a  narrow  passage,  bounded  on  one  side  by  the  range  of 
dungeons,  and  on  the  other  by  the  jailer's  and  turnkeys' 
apartments,  through  which  was  the  usual  entrance  from  the 
street.  This  outlet  I  dared  not  attempt,  for  fear  of  disturb- 
ing the  persons  close  to  whose  very  door  I  should  in  that 
case  have  found  it  necessary  to  pass.  I  determined,  there- 
fore, upon  another  door  at  the  farther  end  of  the  passage, 
which  was  well  barricaded,  and  which  led  to  a  sort  of  gar- 
den in  the  occupation  of  the  keeper.  This  garden  I  had 
never  entered ;  but  I  had  had  an  opportunity  of  observing  it 
from  the  window  of  the  felons'  day-room,  which  looked  that 
way,  the  room  itself  being  immediately  over  the  range  of 
dungeons.  I  perceived  that  it  was  bounded  by  a  wall  of 
considerable  height,  which  I  was  told  by  my  fellow-prison- 
ers was  the  extremity  of  the  jail  on  that  side,  and  beyond 
which  was  a  back-lane  of  some  length,  that  terminated  in 
the  skirts  of  the  town.  Upon  an  accurate  observation,  and 
much  reflection  upon  the  subject,  I  found  I  should  be  able, 
if  once  I  got  into  the  garden,  with  my  gimlets  and  piercers 
inserted  at  proper  distances,  to  make  a  sort  of  ladder,  by 
means  of  which  I  could  clear  the  wall,  and  once  more  take 
possession  of  the  sweets  of  liberty.  I  preferred  this  wall  to 
that  which  immediately  skirted  my  dungeon,  on  the  other 
side  of  which  was  a  populous  street. 

I  suffered  about  two  days  to  elapse  from  the  period  at 
which  I  had  thoroughly  digested  my  project,  and  then  in 
the  very  middle  of  the  night  began  to  set  about  its  execu- 
tion. The  first  door  was  attended  with  considerable  diffi- 
culty; but  at  length  this  obstacle  was  happily  removed. 
The  second  door  was  fastened  on  the  inside.     I  was  there- 


244  ADVENTURES  OF 

fore  able  with  perfect  ease  to  push  back  the  bolts.  But  the 
lock,  which  of  course  was  depended  upon  for  the  principal 
security,  and  was  therefore  strong,  was  double-shot,  and 
the  key  taken  away.  I  endeavoured  with  my  chisel  to  force 
back  the  bolt  of  the  lock;  but  to  no  purpose.  I  then  un- 
screwed the  box  of  the  lock;  and  that  being  taken  away  the 
door  was  no  longer  opposed  to  my  wishes. 

Thus  far  I  had  proceeded  with  the  happiest  success; 
but  close  on  the  other  side  of  the  door  there  was  a  kennel 
with  a  large  mastiff  dog,  of  which  I  had  not  the  smallest 
previous  knowledge.  Though  I  stepped  along  in  the  most 
careful  manner,  this  animal  was  disturbed,  and  began  to 
bark.  I  was  extremely  disconcerted,  but  immediately  ap- 
plied myself  to  soothe  the  animal,  in  which  I  presently  suc- 
ceeded. I  then  returned  along  the  passage  to  listen  whether 
anybody  had  been  disturbed  by  the  noise  of  the  dog;  re- 
solved, if  that  had  been  the  case,  that  I  would  return  to  my 
dungeon,  and  endeavour  to  replace  everything  in  its  former 
state.  But  the  whole  appeared  perfectly  quiet,  and  I  was 
encouraged  to  proceed  in  my  operation. 

I  now  got  to  the  wall,  and  had  nearly  gained  half  the 
ascent,  when  I  heard  a  voice  at  the  garden-door,  crying, 
"Holloa!  who  is  there?  who  opened  the  door?"  The  man 
received  no  answer,  and  the  night  was  too  dark  for  him  to 
distinguish  objects  at  any  distance.  He  therefore  returned, 
as  I  judged,  into  the  house  for  a  light.  Meantime  the  dog, 
understanding  the  key  in  which  these  interrogations  were 
uttered,  began  barking  again  more  violently  than  ever.  I 
had  now  no  possibility  of  retreat,  and  I  was  not  without 
hopes  that  I  might  yet  accomplish  my  object,  and  clear  the 
wall.  Meanwhile  a  second  man  came  out,  while  the  other 
was  getting  his  lantern,  and  by  the  time  I  had  got  to  the 
top  of  the  wall  was  able  to  perceive  me.  He  immediately 
set  up  a  shout,  and  threw  a  large  stone,  which  grazed  me  in 
its  flight.  Alarmed  at  my  situation,  I  was  obliged  to  de- 
scend on  the  other  side  without  taking  the  necessary  pre- 
cautions, and  in  my  fall  nearly  dislocated  my  ankle. 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  245 

There  was  a  door  in  the  wall,  of  which  I  was  not  previ- 
ously apprized;  and,  this  being  opened,  the  two  men  with 
the  lantern  were  on  the  other  side  in  an  instant.  They  had 
then  nothing  to  do  but  to  run  along  the  lane  to  the  place 
from  which  I  had  descended.  I  endeavoured  to  rise  after 
my  fall ;  but  the  pain  was  so  intense  that  I  was  scarcely  able 
to  stand,  and,  after  having  limped  a  few  paces,  I  twisted 
my  foot  under  me,  and  fell  down  again.  I  had  now  no 
remedy,  and  quietly  suffered  myself  to  be  retaken. 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-SIX 

I  WAS  conducted  to  the  keeper's  room  for  that  night, 
and  the  two  men  sat  up  with  me.  I  was  accosted  with 
many  interrogatories,  to  which  I  gave  little  answer,  but 
complained  of  the  hurt  in  my  leg.  To  this  I  could  obtain 
no  reply,  except  "Curse  you,  my  lad!  if  that  be  all,  we  will 
give  you  some  ointment  for  that;  we  will  anoint  it  with  a 
little  cold  iron."  They  were  indeed  excessively  sulky  with 
me,  for  having  broken  their  night's  rest,  and  given  them  all 
this  trouble.  In  the  morning  they  were  as  good  as  their 
word,  fixing  a  pair  of  fetters  upon  both  my  legs,  regardless 
of  the  ankle,  which  was  now  swelled  to  a  considerable  size, 
and  then  fastening  me,  with  a  padlock,  to  a  staple  in  the 
floor  of  my  dungeon.  I  expostulated  with  warmth  upon  this 
treatment,  and  told  them  that  I  was  a  man  upon  whom  the 
law  as  yet  had  passed  no  censure,  and  who  therefore,  in  the 
eye  of  the  law,  was  innocent.  But  they  bade  me  keep  such 
fudge  for  people  who  knew  no  better;  they  knew  what  they 
did,  and  would  answer  it  to  any  court  in  England. 

The  pain  of  the  fetter  was  intolerable.  I  endeavoured 
in  various  ways  to  relieve  it,  and  even  privily  to  free  my  leg; 
but  the  more  it  was  swelled,  the  more  was  this  rendered  im- 
possible. I  then  resolved  to  bear  it  with  patience ;  still,  the 
longer  it  continued,  the  worse  it  grew.  After  two  days  and 
two  nights,  I  entreated  the  turnkey  to  go  and  ask  the  sur- 
geon who  usually  attended  the  prison  to  look  at  it,  for  if  it 
continued  longer  as  it  was,  I  was  convinced  it  would  mor- 
tify. But  he  glared  surlily  at  me,  and  said,  "Damn  my 
blood!  I  should  like  to  see  that  day.  To  die  of  a  mortifi- 
cation is  too  good  an  end  for  such  a  rascal!"  At  the  time 
that  he  thus  addressed  me,  the  whole  mass  of  my  blood  was 
already  fevered  by  the  anguish  I  had  undergone,  my  pa- 

246 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  247 

tience  was  wholly  exhausted,  and  I  was  silly  enough  to  be 
irritated  beyond  bearing,  by  his  impertinence  and  vulgarity: 
"Look  you,  Mr.  Turnkey,"  said  I,  "there  is  one  thing  that 
such  fellows  as  you  are  set  over  us  for,  and  another  thing 
that  you  are  not.  You  are  to  take  care  we  do  not  escape; 
but  it  is  no  part  of  your  office  to  call  us  names  and  abuse 
us.  If  I  were  not  chained  to  the  floor,  you  dare  as  well  eat 
your  fingers  as  use  such  language;  and,  take  my  word  for 
it,  you  shall  yet  live  to  repent  of  your  insolence." 

While  I  thus  spoke,  the  man  stared  at  me  with  astonish- 
ment. He  was  so  little  accustomed  to  such  retorts,  that, 
at  first,  he  could  scarcely  believe  his  ears ;  and  such  was  the 
firmness  of  my  manner,  that  he  seemed  to  forget  for  a 
moment  that  I  was  not  at  large.  But  as  soon  as  he  had 
time  to  recollect  himself,  he  did  not  deign  to  be  angry.  His 
face  relaxed  into  a  smile  of  contempt;  he  snapped  his  fingers 
at  me,  and,  turning  upon  his  heel,  exclaimed,  "Well  said, 
my  cock!  crow  away!  Have  a  care  you  do  not  burst! "  and, 
as  he  shut  the  door  upon  me,  mimicked  the  voice  of  the 
animal  he  mentioned. 

This  rejoinder  brought  me  to  myself  in  a  moment,  and 
showed  me  the  impotence  of  the  resentment  I  was  express- 
ing. But  though  he  thus  put  an  end  to  the  violence  of  my 
speech,  the  torture  of  my  body  continued  as  great  as  ever. 
I  was  determined  to  change  my  mode  of  attack.  The  same 
turnkey  returned  in  a  few  minutes;  and  as  he  approached 
me,  to  put  down  some  food  he  had  brought,  I  slipped  a 
shilling  into  his  hand,  saying  at  the  same  time,  "My  good 
fellow,  for  God's  sake,  go  to  the  surgeon ;  I  am  sure  you  do 
not  wish  me  to  perish  for  want  of  assistance."  The  fellow 
put  the  shilling  into  his  pocket,  looked  hard  at  me,  and  then 
with  one  nod  of  his  head,  and  without  uttering  a  single  word, 
went  away.  The  surgeon  presently  after  made  his  appear- 
ance; and,  finding  the  part  in  a  high  state  of  inflammation, 
ordered  certain  applications,  and  gave  JTjeremptory)  direc- 
tions that  the  fetter  should  not  be  replaced  upon  that  leg, 
till  a  cure  had  been  effected.     It  was  a  full  month  before 


248  ADVENTURES  OF 

the  leg  was  perfectly  healed,  and  made  equally  strong  and 
flexible  with  the  other. 

The  condition  in  which  I  was  now  placed  was  totally  dif- 
ferent from  that  which  had  preceded  this  attempt.  I  was 
chained  all  day  in  my  dungeon,  with  no  other  mitigation, 
except  that  the  door  was  regularly  opened  for  a  few  hours 
in  an  afternoon,  at  which  time  some  of  the  prisoners  occa- 
sionally came  and  spoke  to  me,  particularly  one,  who,  though 
he  could  ill  replace  my  benevolent  Brightwel,  was  not  de- 
ficient in  excellent  qualities.  This  was  no  other  than  the 
individual  whom  Mr.  Falkland  had,  some  months  before, 
dismissed  upon  an  accusation  of  murder.  His  courage  was 
gone,  his  garb  was  squalid,  and  the  comeliness  and  clearness 
of  his  countenance  was  utterly  obliterated.  He  also  was  in- 
nocent, worthy,  brave,  and  benevolent.  He  was,  I  believe, 
afterward  acquitted,  and  turned  loose,  to  wander  a  desolate 
and  perturbed  spectre  through  the  world.  My  manual  la- 
bours were  now  at  an  end ;  my  dungeon  was  searched  every 
night,  and  every  kind  of  tool  carefully  kept  from  me.  The 
straw  which  had  been  hitherto  allowed  me  was  removed, 
under  pretence  that  it  was  adapted  for  concealment ;  and  the 
only  conveniences  with  which  I  was  indulged  were  a  chair 
and  a  blanket. 

A  prospect  of  some  alleviation  in  no  long  time  opened 
upon  me;  but  this  my  usual  ill-fortune  rendered  abortive. 
The  keeper  once  more  made  his  appearance,  and  with  his 
former  constitutional  and  ambiguous  humanity.  He  pre- 
tended to  be  surprised  at  my  want  of  every  accommodation. 
He  reprehended  in  strong  terms  my  attempt  to  escape,  and 
observed,  that  there  must  be  an  end  of  civility  from  people 
in  his  situation,  if  gentlemen,  after  all,  would  not  know 
when  they  were  well.  It  was  necessary,  in  cases  the  like  of 
this,  to  let  the  law  take  its  course;  and  it  would  be  ridicu- 
lous in  me  to  complain,  if,  after  a  regular  trial,  things  should 
go  hard  with  me.  He  was  desirous  of  being  in  every  re- 
spect my  friend,  if  I  would  let  him.  In  the  midst  of  this 
circumlocution  and  preamble,  he  was  called  away  from  me, 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  249 

for  something  relating  to  the  business  of  his  office.  In  the 
meantime  I  ruminated  upon  his  overtures;  and  detesting, 
as  I  did,  the  source  from  which  I  conceived  them  to  flow,  I 
could  not  help  reflecting  how  far  it  would  be  possible  to 
extract  from  them  the  means  of  escape.  But  my  medita- 
tions in  this  case  were  vain.  The  keeper  returned  no  more 
during  the  remainder  of  that  day,  and  on  the  next  an  inci- 
dent occurred  which  put  an  end  to  all  expectations  from  his 
kindness. 

An  active  mind,  which  has  once  been  forced  into  any  par- 
ticular train,  can  scarcely  be  persuaded  to  desert  it  as 
helpless.  I  had  studied  my  chains,  during  the  extreme  an- 
guish that  I  endured  from  the  pressure  of  the  fetter  upon  the 
ankle  which  had  been  sprained ;  and  though,  from  the  swell- 
ing and  acute  sensibility  of  the  part,  I  had  found  all  at- 
tempts at  relief,  in  that  instance,  impracticable,  I  obtained, 
from  the  coolness  of  my  investigation,  another  and  appar- 
ently superior  advantage.  During  the  night,  my  dungeon 
was  in  a  complete  state  of  darkness ;  but  when  the  door  was 
open,  the  case  was  somewhat  different.  The  passage  indeed 
into  which  it  opened  was  so  narrow,  and  the  opposite  dead 
wall  so  near,  that  it  was  but  a  glimmering  and  melancholy 
light  that  entered  my  apartment,  even  at  full  noon,  and 
when  the  door  was  at  its  widest  extent.  But  my  eyes,  after 
a  practice  of  two  or  three  weeks,  accommodated  themselves 
to  this  circumstance,  and  I  learned  to  distinguish  the  mi- 
nutest object.  One  day,  as  I  was  alternately  meditating  and 
examining  the  objects  around  me,  I  chanced  to  observe  a 
nail  trodden  into  the  mud-floor  at  no  great  distance  from 
me.  I  immediately  conceived  the  desire  of  possessing  my- 
self of  this  implement;  but,  for  fear  of  surprise,  people 
passing  perpetually  to  and  fro,  I  contented  myself,  for  the 
present,  with  remarking  its  situation  so  accurately,  that  I 
might  easily  find  it  again  in  the  dark.  Accordingly,  as 
soon  as  my  door  was  shut,  I  seized  upon  this  new  treasure, 
and,  having  contrived  to  fashion  it  to  my  purpose,  found 
that  I  could  unlock  with  it  the  padlock  that  fastened  me  to 


2  5o  ADVENTURES  OF 

the  staple  in  the  floor.  This  I  regarded  as  no  inconsiderable 
advantage,  separately  from  the  use  I  might  derive  from  it 
in  relation  to  my  principal  object.  My  chain  permitted 
me  to  move  only  about  eighteen  inches  to  the  right  or  left; 
and  having  borne  this  confinement  for  several  weeks,  my 
very  heart  leaped  at  the  pitiful  consolation  of  being  able 
to  range,  without  constraint,  the  miserable  coop  in  which  I 
was  immured.  This  incident  had  occurred  several  days 
previously  to  the  last  visit  of  my  keeper. 

From  this  time  it  had  been  my  constant  practice  to  lib- 
erate myself  every  night,  and  not  to  replace  things  in  their 
former  situation  till  I  awoke  in  the  morning,  and  expected 
shortly  to  perceive  the  entrance  of  the  turnkey.  Security 
breeds  negligence.  On  the  morning  succeeding  my  con- 
ference with  the  jailer,  it  so  happened,  whether  I  overslept 
myself,  or  the  turnkey  went  his  round  earlier  than  usual, 
that  I  was  roused  from  my  sleep  by  the  noise  he  made  in 
opening  the  cell  next  to  my  own;  and  though  I  exerted  the 
utmost  diligence,  yet  having  to  grope  for  my  materials  in  the 
dark  I  was  unable  to  fasten  the  chain  to  the  staple  before 
he  entered,  as  usual,  with  his  lantern.  He  was  extremely 
surprised  to  find  me  disengaged,  and  immediately  sum- 
moned the  principal  keeper.  I  was  questioned  respecting 
my  method  of  proceeding;  and,  as  I  believed  concealment 
could  lead  to  nothing  but  a  severer  search  and  a  more  ac- 
curate watch,  I  readily  acquainted  them  with  the  exact 
truth.  The  illustrious  personage  whose  function  it  was  to 
control  the  inhabitants  of  these  walls,  was  by  this  last  in- 
stance, completely  exasperated  against  me.  Artifice  and 
fair  speaking  were  at  an  end.  His  eyes  sparkled  with  fury; 
he  exclaimed,  that  he  was  now  convinced  of  the  folly  of 
showing  kindness  to  rascals,  the  scum  of  the  earth,  such  as 
I  was;  and,  damn  him,  if  anybody  should  catch  him  at  that 
again  towards  any  one.  I  had  cured  him  effectually!  He 
was  astonished  that  the  laws  had  not  provided  some  ter- 
rible retaliation  for  thieves  that  attempted  to  deceive  their 
jailers.     Hanging  was  a  thousand  times  too  good  for  me! 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  251 

Having  vented  his  indignation,  he  proceeded  to  give  such 
orders  as  the  united  instigations  of  anger  and  alarm  sug- 
gested to  his  mind.  My  apartment  was  changed.  I  was 
conducted  to  a  room  called  the  strong-room,  the  door  of 
which  opened  into  the  middle  cell  of  the  range  of  dungeons. 
It  was  underground,  as  they  were,  and  has  also  the  day- 
room  for  felons,  already  described,  immediately  over  it.  It 
was  spacious  and  dreary.  The  door  had  not  been  opened 
for  years;  the  air  was  putrid;  and  the  walls  hung  round 
with  damps  and  mildew.  The  fetters,  the  padlock,  and 
the  staple  were  employed,  as  in  the  former  case,  in  addi- 
tion to  which  they  put  on  me  a  pair  of  handcuffs.  For  my 
first  provision,  the  keeper  sent  me  nothing  but  a  bit  of 
bread,  mouldy  and  black,  and  some  dirty  and  stinking 
water.  I  know  not  indeed  whether  this  is  to  be  regarded 
as  gratuitous  tyranny  on  the  part  of  the  jailer;  the  law 
having  providently  directed,  in  certain  cases,  that  the  water 
to  be  administered  to  the  prisoners  shall  be  taken  from 
"the  next  sink  or  puddle  nearest  to  the  jail."  1  It  was  fur- 
ther ordered,  that  one  of  the  turnkeys  should  sleep  in  the 
cell  that  formed  a  sort  of  antechamber  to  my  apartment. 
Though  every  convenience  was  provided,  to  render  this 
chamber  fit  for  the  reception  of  a  personage  of  a  dignity 
so  superior  to  the  felon  he  was  appointed  to  guard,  he  ex- 
pressed much  dissatisfaction  at  the  mandate:  but  there  was 
no  alternative. 

The  situation  to  which  I  was  thus  removed  was,  appar- 
ently, the  most  undesirable  that  could  be  imagined;  but  I 
was  not  discouraged;  I  had  for  some  time  learned  not  to 
judge  by  appearances.  The  apartment  was  dark  and  un- 
wholesome; but  I  had  acquired  the  secret  of  counteracting 
these  influences.  My  door  was  kept  continually  shut,  and 
the  other  prisoners  were  debarred  access  to  me;  but  if  the 
intercourse  of  our  fellow-men  has  its  pleasure,  solitude,  on 
the  other  hand,  is  not  without  its  advantages.     In  solitude 

1  In  the  case  of  the  peine  forte  et  dure.  See  State  Trials,  vol.  L 
anno  1615. 


252  ADVENTURES  OF 

we  can  pursue  our  own  thoughts  undisturbed;  and  I  was 
able  to  call  up  at  will  the  most  pleasing  avocations.  Be- 
sides which,  to  one  who  meditated  such  designs  as  now 
filled  my  mind,  solitude  had  peculiar  recommendations.  I 
was  scarcely  left  to  myself  before  I  tried  an  experiment, 
the  idea  of  which  I  conceived  while  they  were  fixing  my 
handcuffs;  and  with  my  teeth  only  disengaged  myself  from 
this  restraint.  The  hours  at  which  I  was  visited  by  the 
keepers  were  regular,  and  I  took  care  to  be  provided  for 
them.  Add  to  which,  I  had  a  narrow  grated  window  near 
the  ceiling,  about  nine  inches  in  perpendicular,  and  a  foot 
and  a  half  horizontally,  which,  though  small,  admitted  a 
much  stronger  light  than  that  to  which  I  had  been  accus- 
tomed for  several  weeks.  Thus  circumstanced,  I  scarcely 
ever  found  myself  in  total  darkness,  and  was  better  pro- 
vided against  surprises  than  I  had  been  in  my  preceding 
situation.  Such  were  the  sentiments  which  this  change  of 
abode  immediately  suggested. 

I  had  been  a  very  little  time  removed,  when  I  received 
an  unexpected  visit  from  Thomas,  Mr.  Falkland's  footman, 
whom  I  have  already  mentioned  in  the  course  of  my  nar- 
rative. A  servant  of  Mr.  Forester  happened  to  come  to 
the  town  where  I  was  imprisoned  a  few  weeks  before,  while 
I  was  confined  with  the  hurt  in  my  ankle,  and  had  called 
in  to  see  me.  The  account  he  gave  of  what  he  observed 
had  been  the  source  of  many  an  uneasy  sensation  to 
Thomas.  The  former  visit  was  a  matter  of  mere  curi- 
osity; but  Thomas  was  of  the  better  order  of  servants.  He 
was  considerably  struck  at  the  sight  of  me.  Though  my 
mind  was  now  serene,  and  my  health  sufficiently  good,  yet 
the  floridness  of  my  complexion  was  gone,  and  there  was 
a  rudeness  in  my  physiognomy,  the  consequence  of  hard- 
ship and  fortitude,  extremely  unlike  the  sleekness  of  my 
better  days.  Thomas  looked  alternately  in  my  face,  at 
my  hands,  and  my  feet;  and  then  fetched  a  deep  sigh. 
After  a  pause, 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  253 

"Lord  bless  us!"  said  he,  in  a  voice  in  which  commisera- 
tion was  sufficiently  perceptible,  "is  this  you?" 

"Why  not,  Thomas?  You  knew  I  was  sent  to  prison, 
did  not  you?" 

"Prison!  and  must  people  in  prison  be  shackled  and 
bound  of  that  fashion? — and  where  do  you  lay  of  nights?" 

"Here." 

"Here?    Why,  there  is  no  bed!" 

"No,  Thomas,  I  am  not  allowed  a  bed.  I  had  straw 
formerly,  but  that  is  taken  away." 

"And  do  they  take  off  them  there  things  of  nights?" 

"No;  I  am  expected  to  sleep  just  as  you  see." 

"Sleep!     Why,  I  thought  this  was  a  Christian  country ;\ 
but  this  usage  is  too  bad  for  a  dog." 

"You  must  not  say  so,  Thomas;  it  is  what  the  wisdom 
of  government  has  thought  fit  to  provide." 

"Zounds,  how  I  have  been  deceived?  They  told  me  what 
a  fine  thing  it  was  to  be  an  Englishman,  and  about  liberty 
and  property,  and  all  that  there;  and  I  find  it  is  all  a  flam. 
Lord,  what  fools  we  be!  Things  are  done  under  our  very 
noses,  and  we  know  nothing  of  the  matter;  and  a  parcel 
of  fellows  with  grave  faces  swear  to  us,  that  such  things 
never  happen  but  in  France,  and  other  countries  the  like 
of  that.    Why,  you  ha 'n't  been  tried,  ha'  you?" 

"No." 

"And  what  signifies  being  tried,  when  they  do  worse 
than  hang  a  man,  and  all  beforehand?  Well,  master  Wil- 
liams, you  have  been  very  wicked  to  be  sure,  and  I  thought 
it  would  have  done  me  good  to  see  you  hanged.  But,  I  do 
not  know  how  it  is,  one's  heart  melts,  and  pity  comes  over 
one,  if  we  take  time  to  cool.  I  know  that  ought  not  to 
be;  but,  damn  it,  when  I  talked  of  your  being  hanged,  I 
did  not  think  of  your  suffering  all  this  into  the  bargain." 

Soon  after  this  conversation  Thomas  left  me.  The  idea 
of  the  long  connexion  of  our  families  rushed  upon  his 
memory,  and  he  felt  more  for  my  sufferings,  at  the  mo- 


254  ADVENTURES  OF 

ment,  than  I  did  for  myself.  In  the  afternoon  I  was  sur- 
prised to  see  him  again.  He  said  that  he  could  not  get 
the  thought  of  me  out  of  his  mind,  and  therefore  he  hoped 
I  would  not  be  displeased  at  his  coming  once  more  to  take 
leave  of  me.  I  could  perceive  that  he  had  something  upon 
his  mind,  which  he  did  not  know  how  to  discharge.  One 
of  the  turnkeys  had  each  time  come  into  the  room  with 
him,  and  continued  as  long  as  he  staid.  Upon  some  avoca- 
tionjhowever — a  noise,  I  believe  in  the  passage — the  turn- 
key went  as  far  as  the  door  to  satisfy  his  curiosity;  and 
Thomas,  watching  the  opportunity,  slipped  into  my  hand 
a  chisel,  a  file,  and  a  saw,  exclaiming  at  the  same  time, 
with  a  sorrowfm  tone,  "I  know  I  am  doing  wrong:  but  if 
they  hang  me  too,  I  cannot  help  it;  I  can  do  no  other. 
For  Christ's  sake,  get  out  of  this  place;  I  cannot  bear  the 
thoughts  of  it!"  I  received  the  implements  with  great  joy, 
and  thrust  them  into  my  bosom;  and,  as  soon  as  he  was 
gone,  concealed  them  in  the  rushes  of  my  chair.  For  him- 
self he  had  accomplished  the  object  for  which  he  came, 
and  presently  after  bade  me  farewell. 

The  next  day  the  keepers,  I  know  not  for  what  reason, 
were  more  than  usually  industrious  in  their  search,  say- 
ing, though  without  assigning  any  ground  for  their  sus- 
picion, that  they  were  sure  I  had  some  tool  in  my  posses- 
sion that  I  ought  not;  but  the  depository  I  had  chosen 
escaped  them. 

I  waited  from  this  time  the  greater  part  of  a  week,  that 
I  might  have  the  benefit  of  a  bright  moonlight.  It  was 
necessary  that  I  should  work  in  the  night;  it  was  necessary 
that  my  operations  should  be  performed  between  the  last 
visit  of  the  keepers  at  night  and  their  first  in  the  morning, 
that  is,  between  nine  in  the  evening  and  seven.  In  my 
dungeon,  as  I  have  already  said,  I  passed  fourteen  or  six- 
teen hours  of  the  four-and-twenty  undisturbed;  but  since 
I  had  acquired  a  character  for  mechanical  ingenuity,  a 
particular  exception  with  respect  to  me  was  made  from 
the  general  rules  of  the  prison. 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  255 

It  was  ten  o'clock  when  I  entered  on  my  undertaking. 
The  room  in  which  I  was  confined  was  secured  with  a 
double  door.  This  was  totally  superfluous  for  the  purpose 
of  my  detention,  since  there  was  a  sentinel  planted  on  the 
outside.  But  it  was  very  fortunate  for  my  plan;  because 
these  doors  prevented  the  easy  communication  of  sound, 
and  afforded  me  tolerable  satisfaction,  that,  with  a  little 
care  in  my  mode  of  proceeding,  I  might  be  secure  against 
the  danger  of  being  overheard.  I  first  took  off  my  hand- 
cuffs. I  then  filed  through  my  fetters;  and  next  performed 
the  same  service  to  three  of  the  iron  bars  that  secured  my 
window,  to  which  I  climbed,  partly  by  the  assistance  of 
my  chair,  and  partly  by  means  of  certain  irregularities  in 
the  wall.  All  this  was  the  work  of  more  than  two  hours. 
When  the  bars  were  filed  through,  I  easily  forced  them  a 
little  from  the  perpendicular,  and  then  drew  them,  one  by 
one,  out  of  the  wall,  into  which  they  were  sunk  about  three 
inches  perfectly  straight,  and  without  any  precaution  to 
prevent  their  being  removed.  But  the  space  thus  obtained 
was  by  no  means  wide  enough  to  admit  the  passing  of 
my  body.  I  therefore  applied  myself,  partly  with  my  chisel, 
and  partly  with  one  of  the  iron  bars,  to  the  loosening  of  the 
brickwork;  and  when  I  had  thus  disengaged  four  or  five 
bricks,  I  got  down  and  piled  them  upon  the  floor.  This 
operation  I  repeated  three  or  four  times.  The  space  was 
now  sufficient  for  my  purpose;  and,  having  crept  through 
the  opening,  I  stepped  upon  a  shed  on  the  outside. 

I  was  now  in  a  kind  of  rude  area  between  two  dead  walls, 
that  south  of  the  felons'  day -room  (the  windows  of  which 
were  at  the  east  end)  and  the  wall  of  the  prison.  But  I 
had  not,  as  formerly,  any  instruments  to  assist  me  in  scal- 
ing the  wall,  which  was  of  considerable  height.  There  was, 
of  consequence,  no  resource  for  me  but  that  of  effecting  a 
practicable  breach  in  the  lower  part  of  the  wall  which  was 
of  no  contemptible  strength,  being  of  stone  on  the  outside, 
with  a  facing  of  brick  within.  The  rooms  for  the  debtors 
were  at  right  angles  with  the  building  from  which  I  had 


256  ADVENTURES  OF 

just  escaped;  and  as  the  night  was  extremely  bright,  I  was 
in  momentary  danger,  particularly  in  case  of  the  least  noise, 
of  being  discovered  by  them,  several  of  their  windows  com- 
manding this  area.  Thus  circumstanced,  I  determined  to 
make  the  shed  answer  the  purpose  of  concealment.  It  was 
locked;  but,  with  the  broken  link  of  my  fetters,  which  I 
had  had  the  precaution  to  bring  with  me,  I  found  no  great 
difficulty  in  opening  the  lock.  I  had  now  got  a  sufficient 
means  of  hiding  my  person  while  I  proceeded  in  my  work, 
attended  with  no  other  disadvantage  than  that  of  being 
obliged  to  leave  the  door,  through  which  I  had  thus  broken, 
a  little  open  for  the  sake  of  light.  After  some  time,  I  had 
removed  a  considerable  part  of  the  brick-work  of  the  outer 
wall;  but  when  I  came  to  the  stone,  I  found  the  under- 
taking infinitely  more  difficult.  The  mortar  which  bound 
together  the  building  was,  by  length  of  time,  nearly  petri- 
fied, and  appeared  to  my  first  efforts  one  solid  rock  of  the 
hardest  adamant.  I  had  now  been  six  hours  incessantly 
engaged  in  incredible  labour:  my  chisel  broke  in  the  first 
attempt  upon  this  new  obstacle;  and  between  fatigue  al- 
ready endured,  and  the  seemingly  invincible  difficulty  be- 
fore me,  I  concluded  that  I  must  remain  where  I  was,  and 
gave  up  the  idea  of  further  effort  as  useless.  At  the  same 
time  the  moon,  whose  light  had  till  now  been  of  the  greatest 
use  to  me,  set,  and  I  was  left  in  total  darkness. 

After  a  respite  of  ten  minutes,  however,  I  returned  to  the 
attack  with  new  vigour.  It  could  not  be  less  than  two 
hours  before  the  first  stone  was  loosened  from  the  edifice. 
In  one  hour  more  the  space  was  sufficient  to  admit  of  my 
escape.  The  pile  of  bricks  I  had  left  in  the  strong-room 
was  considerable.  But  it  was  a  molehill  compared  with 
the  ruins  I  had  forced  from  the  outer  wall.  I  am  fully 
assured  that  the  work  I  had  thus  performed  would  have 
been  to  a  common  labourer,  with  every  advantage  of  tools, 
the  business  of  two  or  three  days. 

But  my  difficulties,  instead  of  being  ended,  seemed  to 
be  only  begun.    The  day  broke  before  I  had  completed 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  257 

the  opening,  and  in  ten  minutes  more  the  keepers  would 
probably  enter  my  apartment,  and  perceive  the  cevastation 
I  had  left.  The  lane  which  connected  the  side  of  the  prison 
through  which  I  had  escaped  with  the  adjacent  country  was 
formed  chiefly  by  two  dead  walls,  with  here  and  there  a 
stable,  a  few  warehouses,  and  some  mean  habitations,  ten- 
anted by  the  lower  order  of  people.  My  best  security  lay 
in  clearing  the  town  as  soon  as  possible,  and  depending 
upon  the  open  country  for  protection.  My  arms  were  in- 
tolerably swelled  and  bruised  with  my  labour,  and  my 
strength  seemed  wholly  exhausted  with  fatigue.  Speed  I 
was  nearly  unable  to  exert  for  any  continuance;  and  if  I 
could,  with  the  enemy  so  close  at  my  heels,  speed  would 
too  probably  have  been  useless.  It  appeared  as  if  I  were 
now  in  almost  the  same  situation  as  that  in  which  I  had 
been  placed  five  or  six  weeks  before,  in  which,  after  having 
completed  my  escape,  I  was  obliged  to  yield  myself  up, 
without  resistance,  to  my  pursuers.  I  was  not,  however, 
disabled  as  then ;  I  was  capable  of  exertion,  to  what  precise 
extent  I  could  not  ascertain;  and  I  was  well  aware,  that 
every  instance  in  which  I  should  fail  of  my  purpose  would 
contribute  to  enhance  the  difficulty  of  any  future  attempt. 
Such  were  the  considerations  that  presented  themselves  in 
relation  to  my  escape;  and,  even  if  that  were  effected,  I 
had  to  reckon  among  my  difficulties  that,  at  the  time  I 
quitted  my  prison,  I  was  destitute  of  every  resource,  and 
had  not  a  shilling  remaining  in  the  world. 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-SEVEN 

I  PASSED  along  the  lane  I  have  described,  without 
perceiving  or  being  observed  by  a  human  being.  The 
doors  were  shut,  the  window-shutters  closed,  and  all 
was  still  as  night.  I  reached  the  extremity  of  the  lane  un- 
molested. My  pursuers,  if  they  immediately  followed, 
would  know  that  the  likelihood  was  small  of  my  having 
in  the  interval  found  shelter  in  this  place;  and  would  pro- 
ceed without  hesitation,  as  I  on  my  part  was  obliged  to  do, 
from  the  end  nearest  to  the  prison  to  its  farthest  termina- 
tion. 

The  face  of  the  country  in  the  spot  to  which  I  had  thus 
opened  myself  a  passage  was  rude  and  uncultivated.  It 
was  overgrown  with  brushwood  and  furze;  the  soil  was  for 
the  most  part  of  a  loose  sand;  and  the  surface  extremely 
irregular.  I  climbed  a  small  eminence,  and  could  perceive, 
not  very  remote  in  the  distance,  a  few  cottages  thinly  scat- 
tered. This  prospect  did  not  altogether  please  me;  I  con- 
ceived that  my  safety  would,  for  the  present,  be  extremely 
assisted  by  keeping  myself  from  the  view  of  any  human 
being. 

I  therefore  came  down  again  into  the  valley,  and  upon 
a  careful  examination  perceived  that  it  was  interspersed 
with  cavities,  some  deeper  than  others,  but  all  of  them  so 
shallow  as  neither  to  be  capable  of  hiding  a  man,  nor  of 
exciting  suspicion  as  places  of  possible  concealment.  Mean- 
while the  day  had  but  just  begun  to  dawn;  the  morning 
was  lowering  and  drizzly;  and  though  the  depth  of  these 
caverns  was  of  course  well  known  to  the  neighbouring  in- 
habitants, the  shadows  they  cast  were  so  black  and  im- 
penetrable, as  might  well  have  produced  wider  expectations 
in  the  mind  of  a  stranger.     Poor,  therefore,  as  was  the 

258 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  259 

protection  they  were  able  to  afford,  I  thought  it  right  to 
have  recourse  to  it  for  the  moment,  as  the  best  the  emer- 
gency would  supply.  It  was  for  my  life;  and  the  greater 
was  the  jeopardy  to  which  it  was  exposed,  the  more  dear 
did  that  life  seem  to  become  to  my  affections.  The  recess 
I  chose,  as  most  secure,  was  within  little  more  than  a  hun- 
dred yards  of  the  end  of  the  lane,  and  the  extreme  build- 
ings of  the  town. 

I  had  not  stood  up  in  this  manner  two  minutes,  before 
I  heard  the  sound  of  feet,  and  presently  saw  the  ordinary 
turnkey  and  another  pass  the  place  of  my  retreat.  They 
were  so  close  to  me,  that  if  I  had  stretched  out  my  hand, 
I  believe  I  could  have  caught  hold  of  their  clothes  without 
so  much  as  changing  my  posture.  As  no  part  of  the  over- 
hanging earth  intervened  between  me  and  them,  I  could  see 
them  entire,  though  the  deepness  of  the  shade  rendered  me 
almost  completely  invisible.  I  heard  them  say  to  each 
other,  in  tones  of  vehement  asperity,  "Curse  the  rascal! 
which  way  can  he  be  gone?"  The  reply  was,  "Damn  him! 
I  wish  we  had  him  but  safe  once  again!" — "Never  fear!" 
rejoined  the  first;  "he  cannot  have  above  half  a  mile  the 
start  of  us."  They  were  presently  out  of  hearing;  for,  as 
to  sight,  I  dared  not  advance  my  body,  so  much  as  an  inch, 
to  look  after  them,  lest  I  should  be  discovered  by  my  pur- 
suers in  some  other  direction.  From  the  very  short  time 
that  elapsed,  between  my  escape  and  the  appearance  of 
these  men,  I  concluded  that  they  had  made  their  way 
through  the  same  outlet  as  I  had  done,  it  being  impossible 
that  they  could  have  had  time  to  come  from  the  gate  of 
the  prison,  and  so  round  a  considerable  part  of  the  town, 
as  they  must  otherwise  have  done. 

I  was  so  alarmed  at  this  instance  of  diligence  on  the 
part  of  the  enemy,  that,  for  some  time,  I  scarcely  ven- 
tured to  proceed  an  inch  from  my  place  of  concealment, 
or  almost  to  change  my  posture.  The  morning,  which  had 
been  bleak  and  drizzly,  was  succeeded  by  a  day  of  heavy 
and  incessant  rain;  and  the  gloomy  state  of  the  air  and 


260  ADVENTURES  OF 

surrounding  objects,  together  with  the  extreme  nearness  of 
my  prison,  and  a  total  want  of  food,  caused  me  to  pass 
the  hours  in  no  very  agreeable  sensations.  This  inclem- 
ency of  the  weather,  however,  which  generated  a  feeling  of 
stillness  and  solitude,  encouraged  me  by  degrees  to  change 
my  retreat  for  another  of  the  same  nature,  but  of  some- 
what greater  security.  I  hovered  with  little  variation  about 
a  single  spot,  as  long  as  the  sun  continued  above  the 
horizon. 

Towards  evening  the  clouds  began  to  disperse,  and  the 
moon  shone,  as  on  the  preceding  night,  in  full  brightness. 
I  had  perceived  no  human  creature  during  the  whole  day, 
except  in  the  instance  already  mentioned.  This  had  per- 
haps been  owing  to  the  nature  of  the  day;  at  all  events  I 
considered  it  as  too  hazardous  an  experiment  to  venture 
from  my  hiding-place  in  so  clear  and  fine  a  night.  I  was 
therefore  obliged  to  wait  for  the  setting  of  this  luminary, 
which  was  not  till  near  five  o'clock  in  the  morning.  My 
only  relief  during  this  interval  was  to  allow  myself  to  sink 
to  the  bottom  of  my  cavern,  it  being  scarcely  possible  for 
me  to  continue  any  longer  on  my  feet.  Here  I  fell  into  an 
interrupted  and  unrefreshing  doze,  the  consequence  of  a 
laborious  night,  and  a  tedious,  melancholy  day;  though  I 
rather  sought  to  avoid  sleep,  which,  co-operating  with  the 
coldness  of  the  season,  would  tend  more  to  injury  than 
advantage. 

The  period  of  darkness,  which  I  had  determined  to  use 
for  the  purpose  of  removing  to  a  greater  distance  from  my 
prison,  was,  in  its  whole  duration,  something  less  than  three 
hours.  When  I  rose  from  my  seat,  I  was  weak  with  hunger 
and  fatigue,  and,  which  was  worse,  I  seemed,  between  the 
dampness  of  the  preceding  day  and  the  sharp,  clear  frost 
of  the  night,  to  have  lost  the  command  of  my  limbs.  I 
stood  up  and  shook  myself;  I  leaned  against  the  side  of 
the  hill,  impelling  in  different  directions  the  muscles  of  the 
extremities;  and  at  length  recovered  in  some  degree  the 
sense  of  feeling.    This  operation  was  attended  with  an  in- 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  261 

credible  aching  pain,  and  required  no  common  share  of 
resolution  to  encounter  and  prosecute  it.  Having  quitted 
my  retreat,  I  at  first  advanced  with  weak  and  tottering 
steps;  but  as  I  proceeded  increased  my  pace.  The  barren 
heath,  which  reached  to  the  edge  of  the  town,  was,  at  least 
on  this  side,  without  a  path;  but  the  stars  shone,  and,  guid- 
ing myself  by  them,  I  determined  to  steer  as  far  as  possible 
from  the  hateful  scene  where  I  had  been  so  long  confined. 
The  line  I  pursued  was  of  irregular  surface,  sometimes 
obliging  me  to  climb  a  steep  ascent,  and  at  others  to  go 
down  into  a  dark  and  impenetrable  dell.  I  was  often  com- 
pelled, by  the  dangerousness  of  the  way,  to  deviate  consid- 
erably from  the  direction  I  wished  to  pursue.  In  the  mean- 
time I  advanced  with  as  much  rapidity  as  these  and  similar 
obstacles  would  permit  me  to  do.  The  swiftness  of  the  mo- 
tion, and  the  thinness  of  the  air,  restored  to  me  my  alacrity. 
I  forgot  the  inconveniences  under  which  I  laboured,  and 
my  mind  became  lively,  spirited,  and  enthusiastic. 

I  had  now  reached  the  border  of  the  heath,  and  entered 
upon  what  is  usually  termed  the  forest.  Strange  as  it  may 
seem,  it  is  nevertheless  true,  that,  in  this  conjuncture,  ex- 
hausted with  hunger,  destitute  of  all  provision  for  the  fu- 
ture, and  surrounded  with  the  most  alarming  dangers,  my 
mind  suddenly  became  glowing,  animated,  and  cheerful.  I 
thought  that,  by  this  time,  the  most  formidable  difficulties 
of  my  undertaking  were  surmounted;  and  I  could  not  be- 
lieve, that  after  having  effected  so  much,  I  should  find  any- 
thing invincible  in  what  remained  to  be  done.  I  recollected 
the  confinement  I  had  undergone,  and  the  fate  that  had 
impended  over  me,  with  horror.  Never  did  man  feel  more 
vividly,  than  I  felt  at  that  moment,  the  sweets  of  lib- 
erty. Never  did  man  more  strenuously  prefer  pov- 
erty with  independence,  to  the  artificial  allurements  of  a 
life  of  slavery.  I  stretched  forth  my  arms  with  rapture; 
I  clapped  my  hands  one  upon  the  other,  and  exclaimed, 
"Ah,  this  is  indeed  to  be  a  man!  These  wrists  were  lately 
galled  with  fetters;  all  my  motions,  whether  I  rose  up  or 


4 


262  ADVENTURES  OF 

sat  down,  were  echoed  to  with  the  clanking  of  chains;  I 
was  tied  down  like  a  wild  beast,  and  could  not  move  but 
in  a  circle  of  a  few  feet  in  circumference.  Now  I  can  run 
fleet  as  a  greyhound,  and  leap  like  a  young  roe  upon  the 
mountains.  Oh,  God!  (if  God  there  be  that  condescends 
to  record  the  lonely  beatings  of  an  anxious  heart)  thou  only 
canst  tell  with  what  delight  a  prisoner,  just  broke  forth 
from  his  dungeon,  hugs  the  blessings  of  new-found  liberty! 
Sacred  and  indescribable  moment  when  man  regains  his 
rights!  But  lately  I  held  my  life  in  jeopardy,  because  one 
man  was  unprincipled  enough  to  assert  what  he  knew  to 
be  false;  I  was  destined  to  suffer  an  early  and  inexorable 
death  from  the  hands  of  others,  because  none  of  them  had 
ppngtratinyi  fmrmfiV|  |q  distinguish  from  falsehood,  what  I 
uttered  with  the  entire  corTIi  limi  yl  u  RHI-iraugnt  heart! 
Strange  that  men  from  age  to  age  should  consent  to  hold 
their  lives  at  the  breath  of  another,  merely  that  each  in 
his  turn  may  have  a  power  of  acting  the  tyrant  according 
to  law!  Oh;  God!  give  me  poverty!  shower  upon  me  all 
the  imaginary  hardships  of  human  life!  I  will  receive  them 
all  with  thankfulness.  Turn  me  a  prey  to  the  wild  beasts 
of  the  desert,  so  I  be  never  again  the  victim  of  man,  dressed 
in  the  gore-dripping  robes  of  authority!  Suffer  me  at  least 
to  call  life,  and  the  pursuits  of  life,  my  own!  Let  me  hold 
it  at  the  mercy  of  the  elements,  of  the  hunger  of  beasts, 
or  the  revenge  of  barbarians,  but  not  of  the  cold-blooded 
prudence  of  monopolists  and  kings!" — How  enviable  wTas 
the  enthusiasm  which  could  thus  furnish  me  with  energy, 
in  the  midst  of  hunger,  poverty,  and  universal  desertion! 
I  had  now  walked  at  least  six  miles.  At  first  I  carefully 
avoided  the  habitations  that  lay  in  my  way,  and  feared  to 
be  seen  by  any  of  the  persons  to  whom  they  belonged,  lest 
it  should  in  any  degree  furnish  a  clew  to  the  researches  of 
my  pursuers.  As  I  went  forward,  I  conceived  it  might  be 
proper  to  relax  a  part  of  my  precaution.  At  this  time  I 
perceived  several  persons  coming  out  of  a  thicket  close  to 
me.     I  immediately  considered  this  circumstance  as  rather 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  263 

favourable  than  the  contrary.  It  was  necessary  for  me  to 
avoid  entering  any  of  the  towns  and  villages  in  the  vicinity. 
It  was,  however,  full  time  that  I  should  procure  for  myself 
some  species  of  refreshment,  and  by  no  means  improbable 
that  these  men  might  be  in  some  way  assisting  to  me  in 
that  respect.  In  my  situation  it  appeared  to  me  indifferent 
what  might  be  their  employment  or  profession.  I  had  little 
to  apprehend  from  thieves,  and  I  believed  that  they,  as  well 
as  honest  men,  could  not  fail  to  have  some  compassion  for 
a  person  under  my  circumstances.  I  therefore  rather  threw 
myself  in  their  way  than  avoided  them. 

They  were  thieves.  One  of  the  company  cried  out, 
''Who  goes  there?  stand! "  I  accosted  them.  "Gentlemen," 
said  I,  "I  am  a  poor  traveller,  almost" — While  I  spoke, 
they  came  round  me;  and  he  that  had  at  first  hailed  me, 
said,  ''Damn  me,  tip  us  none  of  your  palaver;  we  have 
heard  that  story  of  a  poor  traveller  any  time  these  five 
years.  Come,  down  with  your  dust!  let  us  see  what  you 
have  got!" — "Sir,"  I  replied,  ''I  have  not  a  shilling  in  the 
world,  and  am  more  than  half  starved  besides." — "Not  a 
shilling!"  answered  my  assailant;  "what,  I  suppose  you 
are  as  poor  as  a  thief?  But,  if  you  have  not  money,  you 
have  clothes,  and  those  you  must  resign." 

"My  clothes!"  rejoined  I,  with  indignation,  "you  can- 
not desire  such  a  thing.  Is  it  not  enough  that  I  am  pen- 
niless? I  have  been  all  night  upon  the  open  heath.  It  is 
now  the  second  day  that  I  have  not  eaten  a  morsel  of  bread. 
Would  you  strip  me  naked  to  the  weather  in  the  midst  of 
this  depopulated  forest?  No,  no,  you  are  men!  The  same 
hatred  of  oppression  that  arms  you  against  the  insolence 
of  wealth  will  teach  you  to  relieve  those  who  are  perishing 
like  me.  For  God's  sake,  give  me  food!  do  not  strip  me 
of  the  comforts  I  still  possess!" 

While  I  uttered  this  apostrophe,  the  unpremeditated  elo- 
quence of  sentiment,  I  could  perceive  by  their  gestures, 
though  the  day  had  not  yet  begun  to  dawn,  that  the  feel- 
ings of  one  or  two  of  the  company  appeared  to  take  my 


264  ADVENTURES  OF 

part.  The  man  who  had  already  undertaken  to  be  their 
spokesman  perceived  the  same  thing;  and,  excited  either 
by  the  brutality  of  his  temper  or  the  love  of  command, 
hastened  to  anticipate  the  disgrace  of  a  defeat.  He 
brushed  suddenly  up  to  me,  and  by  main  force  pushed  me 
several  feet  from  the  place  where  I  stood.  The  shock  I 
received  drove  me  upon  a  second  of  the  gang,  not  one  of 
those  who  had  listened  to  my  expostulation;  and  he  re- 
peated the  brutality.  My  indignation  was  strongly  excited 
by  this  treatment;  and,  after  being  thrust  backward  and 
forward  two  or  three  times  in  this  manner,  I  broke  through 
my  assailants,  and  turned  round  to  defend  myself.  The 
first  that  advanced  within  my  reach  was  my  original  enemy. 
In  the  present  moment  I  listened  to  nothing  but  the  dic- 
tates of  passion,  and  I  laid  him  at  his  length  on  the  earth. 
I  was  immediately  assailed  with  sticks  and  bludgeons  on 
all  sides,  and  presently  received  a  blow  that  almost  de- 
prived me  of  my  senses.  The  man  I  had  knocked  down 
was  now  upon  his  feet  again,  and  aimed  a  stroke  at  me  with 
a  cutlass  as  I  fell,  which  took  place  in  a  deep  wound 
upon  my  neck  and  shoulder.  He  was  going  to  repeat 
his  blow.  The  two  who  had  seemed  to  waver  at  first  in 
their  animosity,  afterward  appeared  to  me  to  join  in  the 
attack,  urged  either  by  animal  sympathy  or  the  spirit  of 
imitation.  One  of  them,  however,  as  I  afterward  under- 
stood, seized  the  arm  of  the  man  who  was  going  to  strike 
me  a  second  time  with  his  cutlass,  and  who  would  other- 
wise probably  have  put  an  end  to  my  existence.  I  could 
hear  the  words,  "Damn  it,  enough,  enough!  that  is  too 
bad,  Gines!" — "How  so?"  replied  a  second  voice;  "he  will 
but  pine  here  upon  the  forest,  and  die  by  inches:  it  will 
be  an  act  of  charity  to  put  him  out  of  his  pain." — It  will 
be  imagined  that  I  was  not  uninterested  in  this  sort  of  de- 
bate. I  made  an  effort  to  speak;  my  voice  failed  me.  I 
stretched  out  one  hand  with  a  gesture  of  entreaty.  "You 
shall  not  strike,  by  God!"  said  one  of  the  voices;  "why 
should  we  be   murderers?" — The  side  of   forbearance  at 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  265 

length  prevailed.  They  therefore  contented  themselves 
with  stripping  me  of  my  coat  and  waistcoat,  and  rolling  me 
into  a  dry  ditch.  They  then  left  me,  totally  regardless  of 
my  distressed  condition,  and  the  plentiful  effusion  of  blood 
which  streamed  from  my  wound. 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-EIGHT 

IN  this  woful  situation,  though  extremely  weak,  I  was 
not  deprived  of  sense.  I  tore  my  shirt  from  my  naked 
body,  and  endeavoured,  with  some  success,  to  make  of 
it  a  bandage  to  stanch  the  flowing  of  the  blood.  I  then 
exerted  myself  to  crawl  up  the  side  of  the  ditch.  I  had 
scarcely  effected  the  latter,  when,  with  equal  surprise  and 
joy,  I  perceived  a  man  advancing  at  no  great  distance. 
I  called  for  help  as  well  as  I  could.  The  man  came  to- 
wards me  with  evident  signs  of  compassion,  and  the  appear- 
ance I  exhibited  was  indeed  sufficiently  calculated  to  excite 
it.  I  had  no  hat.  My  hair  was  dishevelled,  and  the  ends 
of  the  locks  clotted  with  blood.  My  shirt  was  wrapped 
about  my  neck  and  shoulders,  and  was  plentifully  stained 
with  red.  My  body,  which  was  naked  to  my  middle,  was 
variegated  with  streams  of  blood;  nor  had  my  lower  gar- 
ments, which  were  white,  by  any  means  escaped. 

"For  God's  sake,  my  good  fellow!"  said  he,  with  a  tone 
of  the  greatest  imaginable  kindness,  "how  came  you  thus?" 
and,  saying  this,  he  lifted  me  up,  and  set  me  on  my  feet. 
"Can  you  stand?"  added  he,  doubtfully.  "Oh,  yes,  very 
well,"  I  replied.  Having  received  this  answer,  he  quitted 
me,  and  began  to  take  off  his  own  coat,  that  he  might  cover 
me  from  the  cold.  I  had,  however,  overrated  my  strength, 
and  was  no  sooner  left  to  myself  than  I  reeled,  and  fell 
almost  at  my  length  upon  the  ground.  But  I  broke  my 
fall  by  stretching  out  my  sound  arm,  and  again  raised 
myself  upon  my  knees.  My  benefactor  now  covered  me, 
raised  me,  and,  bidding  me  lean  upon  him,  told  me  he 
would  presently  conduct  me  to  a  place  where  I  should  be 
taken  care  of.  Courage  is  a  capricious  property;  and 
though,  while  I  had  no  one  to  depend  upon  but  myself,  I 

266 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  267 

possessed  a  mine  of  seemingly  inexhaustible  fortitude,  yet 
no  sooner  did  I  find  this  unexpected  sympathy  on  the  part 
of  another,  than  my  resolution  appeared  to  give  way,  and 
I  felt  ready  to  faint.  My  charitable  conductor  perceived 
this,  and  every  now  and  then  encouraged  me,  in  a  manner 
so  cheerful,  so  good-humoured,  and  benevolent,  equally  free 
from  the  torture  of  droning  expostulation,  and  the  weak- 
ness of  indulgence,  that  I  thought  myself  under  the  con- 
duct of  an  angel  rather  than  a  man.  I  could  perceive  that 
his  behaviour  had  in  it  nothing  of  boorishness,  and  that  he 
was  thoroughly  imbued  with  the  principles  of  affectionate 
civility. 

We  walked  about  three-quarters  of  a  mile,  and  that  not 
towards  the  open,  but  the  most  uncouth  and  unfrequented 
part  of  the  forest.  We  crossed  a  place  which  had  once 
been  a  moat,  but  which  was  now  in  some  parts  dry,  and 
in  others  contained  a  little  muddy  and  stagnated  water. 
Within  the  enclosure  of  this  moat  I  could  only  discover  a 
pile  of  ruins  and  several  walls,  the  upper  part  of  which 
seemed  to  overhang  their  foundations,  and  to  totter  to 
their  ruin.  After  having  entered,  however,  with  my  con- 
ductor through  an  archway,  and  passed  along  a  winding 
passage  that  was  perfectly  dark,  we  came  to  a  stand. 

At  the  upper  end  of  this  passage  was  a  door,  which  I 
was  unable  to  perceive.  My  conductor  knocked  at  the 
door,  and  was  answered  by  a  voice  from  within,  which, 
for  body  and  force,  might  have  been  the  voice  of  a  man, 
but  with  a  sort  of  female  sharpness  and  acidity,  inquiring, 
"Who  is  there?"  Satisfaction  was  no  sooner  given  on  this 
point,  than  I  heard  two  bolts  pushed  back,  and  the  door 
unlocked.  The  apartment  opened,  and  we  entered.  The 
interior  of  this  habitation  by  no  means  corresponded  with 
the  appearance  of  my  protector,  but,  on  the  contrary,  wore 
the  face  of  discomfort,  carelessness,  and  dirt.  The  only 
person  I  saw  within  was  a  woman,  rather  advanced  in  life, 
and  whose  person  had  I  know  not  what  of  extraordinary 
and  loathsome.    Her  eyes  were  red  and  bloodshot;  her  hair 


268  ADVENTURES  OF 

was  pendent  in  matted  and  shaggy  tresses  about  her  shoul- 
ders; her  complexion  swarthy,  and  of  the  consistency  of 
parchment;  her  form  spa're,  and  her  whole  body,  her  arms 
in  particular,  uncommonly  vigorous  and  muscular.  Not  the 
milk  of  human  kindness,  but  the  feverous  blood  of 
savage  ferocity,  seemed  to  flow  from  her  heart;  and  her 
whole  figure  suggested  an  idea  of  unmitigable  energy,  and 
an  appetite  gorged  in  malevolence.  This  infernal  Tha- 
lestris  had  no  sooner  cast  her  eyes  upon  us  as  we  entered, 
than  she  exclaimed,  in  a  discordant  and  discontented  voice, 
"What  have  we  got  here?  this  is  not  one  of  our  people! " 
My  conductor,  without  answering  this  apostrophe,  bade  her 
push  an  easy-chair  which  stood  in  one  corner,  and  set  it 
directly  before  the  fire.  This  she  did  with  apparent  reluc- 
tance, murmuring,  "Ah!  you  are  at  your  old  tricks;  I  won- 
der what  such  folks  as  we  have  to  do  with  charity!  It  will 
be  the  ruin  of  us  at  last,  I  can  see  that!" — "Hold  your 
tongue,  (beldam!"  said  he,  with  a  stern  significance  of  man- 
ner, "and  TetclTone  of  my  best  shirts,  a  waistcoat,  and  some 
dressings."  Saying  this,  he  at  the  same  time  put  into  her 
hand  a  small  bunch  of  keys.  In  a  word,  he  treated  me 
with  as  much  kindness  as  if  he  had  been  my  father.  He 
examined  my  wound,  washed  and  dressed  it;  at  the  same 
time  that  the  old  woman,  by  his  express  order,  prepared 
for  me  such  nourishment  as  he  thought  most  suitable  to 
my  weak  and  languid  condition. 

These  operations  were  no  sooner  completed  than  my  bene- 
factor recommended  to  me  to  retire  to  rest,  and  prepara- 
tions were  making  for  that  purpose,  when  suddenly  a  tram- 
pling of  feet  was  heard,  succeeded  by  a  knock  at  the  door. 
The  old  woman  opened  the  door  with  the  same  precautions 
as  had  been  employed  upon  our  arrival,  and  immediately 
six  or  seven  persons  tumultuously  entered  the  apartment. 
Their  appearance  was  different,  some  having  the  air  of 
mere  rustics,  and  others  that  of  a  tarnished  sort  of  gentry. 
All  had  a  feature  of  boldness,  inquietude,  and  disorder,  ex- 
tremely unlike  anything  I  had  before  observed  in  such  a 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  269 

group.  But  my  astonishment  was  still  increased,  when 
upon  a  second  glance  I  perceived  something  in  the  general 
air  of  several  of  them,  and  of  one  in  particular,  that  per- 
suaded me  they  were  the  gang  from  which  I  had  just 
escaped,  and  this  one  the  antagonist  by  whose  animosity 
I  was  so  near  having  been  finally  destroyed.  I  imagined 
they  had  entered  the  hovel  with  a  hostile  intention,  that 
my  benefactor  was  upon  the  point  of  being  robbed,  and 
I  probably  murdered. 

This  suspicion,  however,  was  soon  removed.  They  ad- 
dressed my  conductor  with  respect,  under  the  appellation 
of  captain.  They  were  boisterous  and  noisy  in  their  re- 
marks and  exclamations,  but  their  turbulence  was  tempered 
by  a  certain  deference  to  his  opinion  and  authority.  I 
could  observe  in  the  person  who  had  been  my  active  oppo- 
nent some  awkwardness  and  irresolution  as  he  first  per- 
ceived me,  which  he  dismissed  with  a  sort  of  effort,  exclaim- 
ing, "Who  the  devil  is  here?"  There  was  something  in  the 
tone  of  this  apostrophe  that  roused  the  attention  of  my 
protector.  He  looked  at  the  speaker  with  a  fixed  and  pene- 
trating glance,  and  then  said,  "Nay,  Gines,  do  you  know? 
Did  you  ever  see  the  person  before?"  "Curse  it,  Gines!" 
interrupted  a  third,  "you  are  damnably  out  of  luck.  They 
say  dead  men  walk,  and  you  see  there  is  some  truth  in  it." 
— "Truce  with  your  impertinence,  Jeckols!"  replied  my  pro- 
tector: "this  is  no  proper  occasion  for  a  joke.  Answer  me, 
Gines,  were  you  the  cause  of  this  young  man  being  left 
naked  and  wounded  this  bitter  morning  upon  the  forest?" 

"Mayhap  I  was.     What  then?" 

"What  provocation  could  induce  you  to  so  cruel  a  treat- 
ment?" 

"Provocation  enough.    He  had  no  money." 

"What,  did  you  use  him  thus,  without  so  much  as  being 
irritated  by  any  resistance  on  his  part?" 

"Yes,  he  did  resist.  I  only  hustled  him,  and  he  had  the 
impudence  to  strike  me." 

"Gines!  you  are  an  incorrigible  fellow." 


270  ADVENTURES  OF 

"Pooh,  what  signifies  what  I  am?  You,  with  your  coms 
passion,  and  your  fine  feelings,  will  bring  us  all  to  the 
gallows." 

"I  have  nothing  to  say  to  you;  I  have  no  hopes  of 
you!  Comrades,  it  is  for  you  to  decide  upon  the  conduct 
of  this  man  as  you  think  proper.  You  know  how  repeated 
his  offences  have  been;  you  know  what  pains  I  have  taken 
to  mend  him.  Our  profession  is  the  profession  of  justice." 
>'  [It  is  thus  that  the  prejudices  of  men  universally  teach 
•  them  to  colour  the  most  desperate  cause  to  which  they  have 
determined  to  adhere.]  "We,  who  are  thieves  without  a 
license,  are  at  open  war  with  another  set  of  men  who  are 
thieves  according  to  law.  With  such  a  cause  then  to  bear 
us  out,  shall  we  stain  it  with  cruelty,  malice,  and  revenge? 
A  thief  is,  of  course,  a  man  living  among  his  equals;  I  do 
not  pretend,  therefore,  to  assume  any  authority  among  you; 
act  as  you  think  proper;  but,  so  far  as  relates  to  myself, 
I  vote  that  Gines  be  expelled  from  among  us  as  a  disgrace 
to  our  society." 

This  proposition  seemed  to  meet  the  general  sense.  It 
was  easy  to  perceive  that  the  opinion  of  the  rest  coincided 
with  that  of  their  leader;  notwithstanding  which  a  few  of 
them  hesitated  as  to  the  conduct  to  be  pursued.  In  the 
meantime  Gines  muttered  something  in  a  surly  and  irreso- 
lute way,  about  taking  care  how  they  provoked  him.  This 
insinuation  instantly  roused  the  courage  of  my  protector, 
and  his  eyes  flashed  with  contempt. 

"Rascal!"  said  he,  "do  you  menace  us?  Do  you  think 
we  will  be  your  slaves?  No,  no,  do  your  worst!  Go  to 
the  next  justice  of  the  peace,  and  impeach  us;  I  can  easily 
believe  you  are  capable  of  it.  Sir,  when  we  entered  into  this 
gang,  we  were  not  such  fools  as  not  to  know  that  we  entered 
upon  a  service  of  danger.  One  of  its  dangers  consists  in 
the  treachery  of  fellows  like  you.  But  we  did  not  enter 
at  first  to  flinch  now.  Did  you  believe  that  we  would  live 
in  hourly  fear  of  you,  tremble  at  your  threats,  and  com- 
promise, whenever  you  should  so  please,  with  your  inso- 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  271 

lence?  That  would  be  a  blessed  life  indeed!  I  would 
rather  see  my  flesh  torn  piecemeal  from  my  bones!  Go, 
sir!  I  defy  you!  You  dare  not  do  it!  You  dare  not  sac- 
rifice these  gallant  fellows  to  your  rage,  and  publish  your- 
self to  all  the  world  a  traitor  and  a  scoundrel!  If  you  do, 
you  will  punish  yourself,  not  us!     Begone!" 

The  intrepidity  of  the  leader  communicated  itself  to  the 
rest  of  the  "company.  Gines  easily  saw  that  there  was  no 
hope  of  bringing  them  over  to  a  contrary  sentiment.  After 
a  short  pause,  he  answered,  "I  did  not  mean — No,  damn 
it!  I  will  not  snivel  neither.  I  was  always  true  to  my 
principles,  and  a  friend  to  you  all.  But  since  you  are  re- 
solved to  turn  me  out,  why — good-by  to  you!" 

The  expulsion  of  this  man  produced  a  remarkable  im- 
provement in  the  whole  gang.  Those  who  were  before  in- 
clined to  humanity  assumed  new  energy  in  proportion  as 
they  saw  such  sentiments  likely  to  prevail.  They  had  be- 
fore suffered  themselves  to  be  overborne  by  the  boisterous 
insolence  of  their  antagonist;  but  now  they  adopted,  and 
with  success,  a  different  conduct.  Those  who  envied  the 
ascendency  of  their  comrade,  and  therefore  imitated  his 
conduct,  began  to  hesitate  in  their  career.  Stories  were 
brought  forward  of  the  cruelty  and  brutality  of  Gines  both 
to  men  and  animals,  which  had  never  before  reached  the 
ear  of  the  leader.  The  stories  I  shall  not  repeat.  They 
could  excite  only  emotions  of  abhorrence  and  disgust;  and 
some  of  them  argued  a  mind  of  such  a  stretch  of  depravity, 
as  to  many  readers  would  appear  utterly  incredible;  and 
yet  this  man  had  his  virtues.  He  was  enterprising,  per- 
severing, and  faithful. 

His  removal  was  a  considerable  benefit  to  me.  It  would 
have  been  no  small  hardship  to  have  been  turned  adrift 
immediately  under  my  unfavourable  circumstances,  with 
the  additional  disadvantage  of  the  wound  I  had  received; 
and  yet  I  could  scarcely  have  ventured  to  remain  under 
the  same  roof  with  a  man  to  whom  my  appearance  was  as 
a  guilty  conscience,  perpetually  reminding  him  of  his  own 


272  ADVENTURES  OF 

offence,  and  the  displeasure  of  his  leader.  His  profession 
accustomed  him  to  a  certain  degree  of  indifference  to  con- 
sequences, and  indulgence  to  the  sallies  of  passion;  and  he 
might  easily  have  found  his  opportunity  to  insult  or  injure 
me,  when  I  should  have  had  nothing  but  my  own  debili- 
tated exertions  to  protect  me. 

Freed  from  this  danger,  I  found  my  situation  sufficiently 
fortunate  for  a  man  under  my  circumstances.  It  was  at- 
tended with  all  the  advantages  for  concealment  my  fondest 
imagination  could  have  hoped;  and  it  was  by  no  means 
destitute  of  the  benefits  which  arise  from  kindness  and 
humanity.  Nothing  could  be  more  unlike  than  the  thieves 
I  had  seen  in  jail,  and  the  thieves  of  my  new  resi- 
dence. The  latter  were  generally  full  of  cheerfulness  and 
merriment.  They  could  expatiate  freely  wherever  they 
thought  proper.  They  could  form  plans  and  execute  them. 
They  consulted  their  inclinations.  They  did  not  impose 
upon  themselves  the  task,  as  is  too  often  the  case  in  human 
society,  of  seeming  tacitly  to  approve  that  from  which  they 
suffered  most;  or,  which  is  worst,  of  persuading  themselves 
that  all  the  wrongs  they  suffered  were  right;  but  were  at 
open  war  with  their  oppressors.  On  the  contrary,  the  im_- 
prisoned  felons  I  had  lately  seen  were  shut  up  like  wild 
beasts  in  a  cage,  deprived  of  activity,  and  palsied  with  in- 
dolence. The  occasional  demonstrations  that  still  remained 
of  their  former  enterprising  life  were  the  starts  and  con- 
vulsions of  disease,  not  the  meditated  and  consistent  exer- 
tions of  a  mind  in  health.  They  had  no  more  of  hope,  of 
project,  of  golden  and  animated  dreams,  but  were  reserved 
to  the  most  dismal  prospects,  and  forbidden  to  think  upon 
any  other  topic.  It  is  true,  that  these  two  scenes  were 
parts  of  one  whole,  the  one  the  consummation,  the  hourly 
to  be  expected  successor  of  the  other.  But  the  men  I  now 
saw  were  wholly  inattentive  to  this,  and  in  that  respect 
appeared  to  hold  no  commerce  with  reflection  or  reason. 

I  might  in  one  view,  as  I  have  said,  congratulate  myself 
upon  my  present  residence;  it  answered  completely  the  pur- 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  273 

poses  of  concealment.  It  was  the  seat  of  merriment  and 
hilarity;  but  the  hilarity  that  characterized  it  produced  no 
correspondent  feelings  in  my  bosom.  The  persons  who  com- 
posed this  society  had  each  of  them  cast  off  all  control  from 
established  principle:  their  trade  was  terror,  and  their  con- 
stant object  to  elude  the  vigilance  of  the  community.  The 
influence  of  these  circumstances  was  visible  in  their  char- 
acter. I  found  among  them  benevolence  and  kindness:  they 
were  strongly  susceptible  of  emotions  of  generosity.  But 
as  their  situation  was  precarious,  their  dispositions  were 
proportionably  fluctuating.  Inured  to  the  animosity  of 
their  species,  they  were  irritable  and  passionate.  Accus- 
tomed to  exercise  harshness  towards  the  subject  of  their 
depredations,  they  did  not  always  confine  their  brutality 
within  that  scope.  They  were  habituated  to  consider 
wounds  and  bludgeons  and  stabbing  as  the  obvious  mode 
of  surmounting  every  difficulty.  Uninvolved  in  the  debili- 
tating routine  of  human  affairs,  they  frequently  displayed 
an  energy  which,  from  every  impartial  observer,  would  have 
extorted  veneration.  Energy  is  perhaps  of  all  qualities  the 
most  valuable;  and  a  just  political  system  would  possess 
the  means  of  extracting  from  it,  thus  circumstanced,  its 
beneficial  qualities,  instead  of  consigning  it,  as  now,  to 
indiscriminate  destruction.  We  act  like  the  chemist,  who 
should  reject  the  finest  ore,  and  employ  none  but  what  was 
sufficiently  debased  to  fit  it  immediately  for  the  vilest  uses. 
But  the  energy  of  these  men,  such  as  I  beheld  it,  was  in 
the  highest  degree  misapplied,  unassisted  by  liberal  and 
enlightened  views,  and  directed  only  to  the  most  narrow 
and  contemptible  purposes. 

The  residence  I  have  been  describing  might  to  many 
persons  have  appeared  attended  with  intolerable  inconven- 
iences. But,  exclusively  of  its  advantages  as  a  field  for 
speculation,  it  was  Elysium  compared  with  that  from  which 
I  had  just  escaped.  Displeasing  company,  incommodious 
apartments,  filthiness,  and  riot  lost  the  circumstance  by 
which  they  could  most  effectually  disgust,  when  I  was  not 


274  ADVENTURES  OF 

compelled  to  remain  with  them.  All  hardships  I  could 
patiently  endure,  in  comparison  with  the  menace  of  a  vio- 
lent and  untimely  death.  There  was  no  suffering  that  I 
could  not  persuade  myself  to  consider  as  trivial,  except 
that  which  flowed  from  the  tyranny,  the  frigid  precaution, 
or  the  inhuman  revenge  of  my  own  species. 

My  recovery  advanced  in  the  most  favourable  manner. 
The  attention  and  kindness  of  my  protector  were  incessant, 
and  the  rest  caught  the  spirit  from  his  example.  The  old 
woman  who  superintended  the  household  still  retained  her 
animosity.  She  considered  me  as  the  cause  of  the  expul- 
sion of  Gines  from  the  fraternity.  Gines  had  been  the 
object  of  her  particular  partiality;  and,  zealous  as  she  was 
for  the  public  concern,  she  thought  an  old  and  experienced 
sinner  for  a  raw  probationer  but  an  ill  exchange.  Add  to 
which,  that  her  habits  inclined  her  to  moroseness  and  dis- 
content, and  that  persons  of  her  complexion  seem  unable 
to  exist  without  some  object  upon  which  to  pour  out  the 
superfluity  of  their  gall.  She  lost  no  opportunity,  upon  the 
most  trifling  occasion,  of  displaying  her  animosity;  and 
ever  and  anon  eyed  me  with  a  furious  glance  of  canine 
hunger  for  my  destruction.  Nothing  was  more  evidently 
mortifying  to  her  than  the  procrastination  of  her  malice; 
nor  could  she  bear  to  think  that  a  fierceness  so  gigantic  and 
uncontrollable  should  show  itself  in  nothing  more  terrific 
than  the  pigmy  spite  of  a  chambermaid.  For  myself  I  had 
been  accustomed  to  the  warfare  of  formidable  adversaries, 
and  the  encounter  of  alarming  dangers;  and  what  I  saw 
of  her  spleen  had  not  power  sufficient  to  disturb  my  tran- 
quillity. 

As  I  recovered,  I  told  my  story,  except  so  far  as  related 
to  the  detection  of  Mr.  Falkland's  eventful  secret,  to  my 
protector.  That  particular  I  could  not,  as  yet,  prevail  upon 
myself  to  disclose,  even  in  a  situation  like  this,  which 
seemed  to  preclude  the  possibility  of  its  being  made  use 
of  to  the  disadvantage  of  my  persecutor.  My  present 
auditor,  however,  whose  habits  of  thinking  were  extremely 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  275 

opposite  to  those  of  Mr.  Forester,  did  not,  from  the  ob- 
scurity which  flowed  from  this  reserve,  deduce  any  unfa- 
vourable conclusion.  His  penetration  was  such  as  to  afford 
little  room  for  an  impostor  to  hope  to  mislead  him  by  a 
fictitious  statement,  and  he  confided  in  that  penetration. 
So  confiding,  the  simplicity  and  integrity  of  my  manner 
carried  conviction  to  his  mind,  and  ensured  his  good  opinion 
and  friendship. 

He  listened  to  my  story  with  eagerness,  and  commented 
on  the  several  parts  as  I  related  them.  He  said  that  this 
was  only  one  fresh  instance  of  the  tyranny  and  perfidious- 
ness  exercised  by  the  powerful  members  of  the  community 
against  those  who  were  less  privileged  than  themselves. 
Nothing  could  be  more  clear  than  their  readiness  to  sacri- 
fice the  human  species  at  large  to  their  meanest  interest 
or  wildest  caprice.  Who  that  saw  the  situation  in  its  true 
light  would  wait  till  their  oppressors  thought  fit  to  decree 
their  destruction,  and  not  take  arms  in  their  defence  while 
it  was  yet  in  their  power?  Which  was  most  meritorious, 
the  unresisting  and  dastardly  submission  of  a  slave,  or  the 
enterprise  and  gallantry  of  the  man  who  dared  to  assert 
his  claims?  Since,  by  the  partial  administration  of  our 
laws,  innocence,  when  power  was  armed  against  it,  had 
nothing  better  to  hope  for  than  guilt,  what  man  of  true 
courage  would  fail  to  set  these  laws  at  defiance,  and,  if  he 
must  suffer  by  their  injustice,  at  least  take  care  that  he 
had  first  shown  his  contempt  of  their  yoke?  For  himself, 
he  should  certainly  never  have  embraced  his  present  call- 
ing, had  he  not  been  stimulated  to  it  by  these  cogent  and 
irresistible  reasons;  and  he  hoped,  as  experience  had  so 
forcibly  brought  a  conviction  of  this  sort  to  my  mind,  that 
he  should  for  the  future  have  the  happiness  to  associate 
me  to  his  pursuits. — It  will  presently  be  seen  with  what 
event  these  hopes  were  attended. 

Numerous  were  the  precautions  exercised  by  the  gang 
of  thieves  with  whom  I  now  resided  to  elude  the  vigilance 
of  the  satellites  of  justice.     It  was  one  of  their  rules  to 


276  CALEB  WILLIAMS 

commit  no  depredations  but  at  a  considerable  distance 
from  the  place  of  their  residence;  and  Gines  had  trans- 
gressed this  regulation  in  the  attack  to  which  I  was  in- 
debted for  my  present  asylum.  After  having  possessed 
themselves  of  any  booty,  they  took  care,  in  the  sight  of  the 
persons  whom  they  had  robbed,  to  pursue  a  route  as  nearly 
as  possible  opposite  to  that  which  led  to  their  true  haunts. 
The  appearance  of  their  place  of  residence,  together  with 
its  environs,  was  peculiarly  desolate  and  forlorn,  and  it 
had  the  reputation  of  being  haunted.  The  old  woman  I 
have  described  had  long  been  its  inhabitant,  and  was  com- 
monly supposed  to  be  its  only  inhabitant;  and  her  person 
well  accorded  with  the  rural  ideas  of  a  witch.  Her  lodgers 
never  went  out  or  came  in  but  with  the  utmost  circum- 
spection, and  generally  by  night.  The  lights  which  were 
occasionally  seen  from  various  parts  of  her  habitation  were, 
by  the  country  people,  regarded  with  horror  as  super- 
natural; and  if  the  noise  of  revelry  at  any  time  saluted 
their  ears,  it  was  imagined  to  proceed  from  a  carnival  of 
devils.  With  all  these  advantages,  the  thieves  did  not  ven- 
ture to  reside  here  but  by  intervals:  they  frequently 
absented  themselves  for  months,  and  removed  to  a  different 
part  of  the  country.  The  old  woman  sometimes  attended 
them  in  these  transportations,  and  sometimes  remained; 
but  in  all  cases  her  decampment  took  place  either  sooner 
or  later  than  theirs,  so  that  the  nicest  observer  could 
scarcely  have  traced  any  connexion  between  her  reappear- 
ance and  the  alarms  of  depredation  that  were  frequently 
given;  and  the  festival  of  demons  seemed,  to  the  terrified 
rustics,  indifferently  to  take  place  whether  she  were  present 
or  absent. 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-NINE 

ONE  day,  while  I  continued  in  this  situation,  a  cir- 
cumstance occurred  which  involuntarily  attracted 
my  attention.  Two  of  our  people  had  been  sent 
to  a  town  at  some  distance,  for  the  purpose  of  procuring 
us  the  things  of  which  we  were  in  want.  After  having  de- 
livered these  to  our  landlady,  they  retired  to  one  corner  of 
the  room;  and  one  of  them  pulling  a  printed  paper  from 
his  pocket,  they  mutually  occupied  themselves  in  examin- 
ing its  contents.  I  was  sitting  in  an  easy-chair  by  the 
fire,  being  considerably  better  than  I  had  been,  though  still 
in  a  weak  and  languid  state.  Having  read  for  a  consid- 
erable time,  they  looked  at  me,  and  then  at  the  paper,  and 
then  at  me  again.  They  then  went  out  of  the  room  to- 
gether, as  if  to  consult  without  interruption  upon  something 
which  that  paper  suggested  to  them.  Some  time  after  they 
returned;  and  my  protector,  who  had  been  absent  upon  the 
former  occasion,  entered  the  room  at  the  same  instant. 

"Captain!"  said  one  of  them  with  an  air  of  pleasure, 
"look  here!  we  have  found  a  prize!  I  believe  it  is  as  good 
as  a  bank-note  of  a  hundred  guineas." 

Mr.  Raymond  (that  was  his  name)  took  the  paper,  and 
read.  He  paused  for  a  moment.  He  then  crushed  the 
paper  in  his  hand;  and,  turning  to  the  person  from  whom 
he  had  received  it,  said,  with  the  tone  of  a  man  confident 
in  the  success  of  his  reasons, — 

"What  use  have  you  for  these  hundred  guineas?  Are 
you  in  want?  Are  you  in  distress?  Can  you  be  contented 
to  purchase  them  at  the  price  of  treachery — of  violating 
the  laws  of  hospitality?" 

"Faith,  captain,  I  do  not  very  well  know.  After  having 
violated  other  laws,  I  do  not  see  why  we  should  be  fright- 

277 


278  ADVENTURES  OF 

ened  at  an  old  saw.  We  pretend  to  judge  for  ourselves, 
and  ought  to  be  above  shrinking  from  a  bugbear  of  a 
proverb.  Besides,  this  is  a  good  deed,  and  I  should  think 
no  more  harm  of  being  the  ruin  of  such  a  thief  than  of 
getting  my  dinner." 

"A  thief!     You  talk  of  thieves!" 

"Not  so  fast,  captain.  God  defend  that  I  should  say  a 
word  against  thieving  as  a  general  occupation!  But  one 
man  steals  in  one  way,  and  another  in  another.  For  my 
part,  I  go  upon  the  highway,  and  take  from  any  stranger 
I  meet  what,  it  is  a  hundred  to  one,  he  can  very  well 
spare.  I  see  nothing  to  be  found  fault  with  in  that.  But 
I  have  as  much  conscience  as  another  man.  Because  I 
laugh  at  assizes,  and  great  wigs,  and  the  gallows,  and  be- 
cause I  will  not  be  frightened  from  an  innocent  action 
when  the  lawyers  say  me  nay,  does  it  follow  that  I  am  to 
have  a  fellow-feeling  for  pilferers,  and  rascally  servants, 
and  people  that  have  neither  justice  nor  principle?  No; 
I  have  too  much  respect  for  the  trade  not  be  a  foe  to  inter- 
lopers, and  people  that  so  much  the  more  deserve  my 
hatred,  because  the  world  calls  them  by  my  name." 

"You  are  wrong,  Larkins!  You  certainly  ought  not  to 
employ  against  people  that  you  hate,  supposing  your  hatred 
to  be  reasonable,  the  instrumentality  of  that  law  which  in 
your  practice  you  defy.  Be  consistent.  Either  be  the 
friend  of  the  law,  or  its  adversary.  Depend  upon  it  that, 
wherever  there  are  laws  at  all,  there  will  be  laws  against 
such  people  as  you  and  me.  Either,  therefore,  we  all  of 
us  deserve  the  vengeance  of  the  law,  or  law  is  not  the 
proper  instrument  for  correcting  the  misdeeds  of  mankind. 
I  tell  you  this,  because  I  would  fain  have  you  aware  that 
an  informer  or  a  king's  evidence,  a  man  who  takes  the 
advantage  of  the  confidence  of  another  in  order  to  betray 
him,  who  sells  the  life  of  his  neighbour  for  money,  or, 
coward-like,  upon  any  pretence  calls  in  the  law  to  do  that 
for  him  which  he  cannot  or  dares  not  do  for  himself,  is  the 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  279 

vilest  of  rascals.     But  in  the  present  case,  if  your  reasons 
were  the  best  in  the  world,  they  do  not  apply." 

While  Mr.  Raymond  was  speaking,  the  rest  of  the  gang 
came  into  the  room.  He  immediately  turned  to  them,  and 
said, — 

"My  friends,  here  is  a  piece  of  intelligence  that  Larkins 
has  just  brought  in  which,  with  his  leave,  I  will  lay  before 
you." 

Then  unfolding  the  paper  he  had  received,  he  continued: 
"This  is  the  description  of  a  felon,  with  the  offer  of  a 
hundred  guineas  for  his  apprehension.  Larkins  picked  it 
up  at .  By  the  time  and  other  circumstances,  but  par- 
ticularly by  the  minute  description  of  his  person,  there  can 
be  no  doubt  but  the  object  of  it  is  our  young  friend,  whose 
life  I  was  a  while  ago  the  instrument  of  saving.  He  is 
charged  here  with  having  taken  advantage  of  the  confi- 
dence of  his  patron  and  benefactor  to  rob  him  of  property 
to  a  large  amount.  Upon  this  charge  he  was  committed 
to  the  county  jail,  from  whence  he  made  his  escape  about 
a  fortnight  ago,  without  venturing  to  stand  his  trial;  a  cir- 
cumstance which  is  stated  by  the  advertiser  as  tantamount 
to  a  confession  of  his  guilt. 

"My  friends,  I  was  acquainted  with  the  particulars  of 
this  story  some  time  before.  This  lad  let  me  into  his  his- 
tory, at  a  time  that  he  could  not  possibly  foresee  that  he 
should  stand  in  need  of  that  precaution  as  an  antidote 
against  danger.  He  is  not  guilty  of  what  is  laid  to  his 
charge.  Which  of  you  is  so  ignorant  as  to  suppose  that 
his  escape  is  any  confirmation  of  his  guilt?  Who  ever 
thinks,  when  he  is  apprehended  for  trial,  of  his  innocence 
or  guilt  as  being  at  all  material  to  the  issue?  Who  ever 
was  fool  enough  to  volunteer  a  trial,  where  those  who  are 
to  decide  think  more  of  the  horror  of  the  thing  of  which 
he  is  accused,  than  whether  he  were  the  person  that  did  it; 
and  where  the  nature  of  our  motives  is  to  be  collected  from 
a  set  of  ignorant  witnesses,  that  no  wise  man  would  trust 


280  ADVENTURES  OF 

for  a  fair  representation  of  the  most  indifferent  action  of 
his  life? 

"The  poor  lad's  story  is  a  long  one,  and  I  will  not  trou- 
ble you  with  it  now.  But  from  that  story  it  is  as  clear  as 
the  day,  that,  because  he  wished  to  leave  the  service  of 
his  master,  because  he  had  been  perhaps  a  little  too  inquisi- 
tive in  his  master's  concerns,  and  because,  as  I  suspect,  he 
had  been  trusted  with  some  important  secrets,  his  master 
conceived  an  antipathy  against  him.  The  antipathy  gradu- 
ally proceeded  to  such  a  length  as  to  induce  the  master  to 
forge  this  vile  accusation.  He  seemed  willing  to  hang  the 
lad  out  of  the  way,  rather  than  suffer  him  to  go  where  he 
pleased,  or  get  beyond  the  reach  of  his  power.  Williams 
has  told  me  the  story  with  such  ingenuousness,  that  I  am 
as  sure  that  he  is  guiltless  of  what  they  lay  to  his  charge, 
as  that  I  am  so  myself.  Nevertheless  the  man's  servants 
who  were  called  in  to  hear  the  accusation,  and  his  relation, 
who  as  justice  of  the  peace  made  out  the  mittimus,  and 
who  had  the  folly  to  think  he  could  be  impartial,  gave  it 
on  his  side  with  one  voice,  and  thus  afforded  Williams  a 
sample  of  what  he  had  to  expect  in  the  sequel. 

"Larkins,  who,  when  he  received  this  paper,  had  no  pre- 
vious knowledge  of  particulars,  was  for  taking  advantage 
of  it  for  the  purpose  of  earning  the  hundred  guineas.  Are 
you  of  that  mind  now  you  have  heard  them?  Will  you 
for  so  paltry  a  consideration  deliver  up  the  lamb  into  the 
jaws  of  the  wolf?  Will  you  abet  the  purposes  of  thi^san- 
guinary  rascal,  who,  not  contented .  with  driving  his  late 
dependant  from  house  and  home,  depriving  him  of  char- 
acter and  all  the  ordinary  means  of  subsistence,  and  leaving 
him  almost  without  a  refuge,  still  thirsts  for  his  blood? 
If  no  other  person  have  the  courage  to  set  limits  to  the 
tyranny  of  courts  of  justice,  shall  not  we?  Shall  we,  who 
earn  our  livelihood  by  generous  daring,  be  indebted  for  a 
penny  to  the  vile  artifices  of  the  informer?  Shall  we, 
against  whom  the  whole  species  is  in  arms,  refuse  our  pro- 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  281 

tection  to  an  individual,  more  exposed  to,  but  still  less 
deserving  of,  their  persecution  than  ourselves? ;' 

The  representation  of  the  captain  produced  an  instant 
effect  upon  the  whole  company.  They  all  exclaimed.  "Be- 
tray him!  No,  not  for  worlds!  He  is  safe.  We  will  pro- 
tect him  at  the  hazard  of  our  lives.  If  fidelity  and  honour 
be  banished  from  thieves,  where  shall  they  find  refuge  upon 
the  face  of  the  earth? 'J1  Larkins  in  particular  thanked 
the  captain  for  his  interference,  and  swore  that  he  would 
rather  part  with  his  right  hand  than  injure  so  worthy  a 
lad,  or  assist  such  an  unheard-of-villany.  Saying  this,  he 
took  me  by  the  hand  and  bade  me  fear  nothing.  Under 
their  roof  no  harm  should  ever  befall  me;  and  even  if  the 
understrappers  of  the  law  should  discover  my  retreat,  they 
would  to  a  man  die  in  my  defence,  sooner  than  a  hair  of 
my  head  should  be  hurt.  I  thanked  him  most  sincerely 
for  his  good-will;  but  I  was  principally  struck  with  the 
fervent  benevolence  of  my  benefactor.  I  told  them,  I 
found  that  my  enemies  were  inexorable,  and  would  never 
be  appeased  but  with  my  blood;  and  I  assured  them  with 
the  most  solemn  and  earnest  veracity,  that  I  had  done 
nothing  to  deserve  the  persecution  which  was  exercised 
against  me. 

The  spirit  and  energy  of  Mr.  Raymond  had  been  such 
as  to  leave  no  part  for  me  to  perform  in  repelling  this 
unlooked-for  danger.  Nevertheless,  it  left  a  very  serious 
impression  upon  my  mind.  I  had  always  placed  some  con- 
fidence in  the  returning  equity  of  Mr.  Falkland.  Though 
he  persecuted  me  with  bitterness,  I  could  not  help  believing 
that  he  did  it  unwillingly,  and  I  was  persuaded  it  would 
not  be  for  ever.  A  man  whose  original  principles  had  been 
so  full  of  rectitude  and  honour  could  not  fail  at  some  time 
to  recollect  the  injustice  of  his  conduct,  and  to  remit  his 

1  This  seems  to  be  the  parody  of  a  celebrated  saying  of  John 
King  of  France,  vrho  was  taken  prisoner  by  the  Black  Prince  at 
the  battle  of  Poitiers. 


i 


282  ADVENTURES  OF 


asperity.  This  idea  had  been  always  present  to  me,  and 
had  in  no  small  degree  conspired  to  instigate  my  exertions. 
I  said,  "I  will  convince  my  persecutor  that  I  am  of  more 
value  than  that  I  should  be  sacrificed  purely  by  way  of 
precaution."  These  expectations  on  my  part  had  been  en- 
couraged by  Mr.  Falkland's  behaviour  upon  the  question 
of  my  imprisonment,  and  by  various  particulars  which  had 
occurred  since. 

But  this  new  incident  gave  the  subject  a  totally  different 
appearance.  I  saw  him,  not  contented  with  blasting  my 
reputation,  confining  me  for  a  period  in  jail,  and  reducing 
me  to  the  situation  of  a  houseless  vagabond,  still  continu- 
ing his  pursuit  under  these  forlorn  circumstances  with  un- 
mitigable  cruelty.  Indignation  and  resentment  seemed  now 
for  the  first  time  to  penetrate  my  mind.  I  knew  his  misery  so 
well,  I  was  so  fully  acquainted  with  its  cause,  and  strongly 
impressed  with  the  idea  of  its  being  unmerited,  that,  while 
I  suffered  deeply,  I  still  continued  to  pity,  rather  than 
hate,  my  persecutor.  But  this  incident  introduced  some 
change  into  my  feelings.  I  said,  "Surely  he  might  now  be- 
lieve that  he  had  sufficiently  disarmed  me,  and  might  at 
length  suffer  me  to  be  at  peace.  At  least,  ought  he  not 
to  be  contented  to  leave  me  to  my  fate,  the  perilous  and 
uncertain  condition  of  an  escaped  felon,  instead  of  thus 
whetting  the  animosity  and  vigilance  of  my  countrymen 
against  me?  Were  his  interference  on  my  behalf  in 
opposition  to  the  stern  severity  of  Mr.  Forester,  and  his 
various  acts  of  kindness  since,  a  mere  part  that  he  played 
in  order  to  lull  me  into  patience?  Was  he  perpetually 
haunted  with  the  fear  of  an  ample  retaliation,  and  for  that 
purpose  did  he  personate  remorse,  at  the  very  moment  that 
he  was  secretly  keeping  every  engine  at  play  that  could 
secure  my  destruction?"  The  very  suspicion  of  such  a  fact 
filled  me  with  inexpressible  horror,  and  struck  a  sudden 
chill  through  every  fibre  of  my  frame. 

My  wound  was  by  this  time  completely  healed,  and  it 
became  absolutely  necessary  that  I  should  form  some  de- 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  283 

termination  respecting  the  future.  My  habits  of  thinking 
were  such  as  gave  me  an  uncontrollable  repugnance  to  the 
vocation  of  my  hosts.  I  did  not  indeed  feel  that  aversion 
and  abhorrence  to  the  men  which  are  commonly  entertained. 
I  saw  and  respected  their  good  qualities  and  their  virtues. 
I  was  by  no  means  inclined  to  believe  them  worse  men,  or 
more  hostile  in  their  dispositions  to  the  welfare  of  their 
species,  than  the  generality  of  those  that  look  down  upon 
them  with  most  censure.  But  though  I  did  not  cease  to 
love  them  as  individuals,  my  eyes  were  perfectly  open  to 
their  mistakes.  If  I  should  otherwise  have  been  in  danger 
of  being  misled,  it  was  my  fortune  to  have  studied  felons 
in  a  jail  before  I  studied  them  in  their  state  of  compara- 
tive prosperity;  and  this  was  an  infallible  antidote  to  the 
poison.  I  saw  that  in  this  profession  were  exerted  un- 
common energy,  ingenuity,  and  fortitude,  and  I  could  not 
help  recollecting  how  admirably  beneficial  such  qualities 
might  be  made  in  the  great  theatre  of  human  affairs; 
while,  in  their  present  direction,  they  were  thrown  away 
upon  purposes  diametrically  at  war  with  the  first  interests 
of  human  society.  Nor  were  their  proceedings  less  in- 
jurious to  their  own  interest  than  incompatible  with  the 
general  welfare.  The  man  who  risks  or  sacrifices  his  life 
for  the  public  cause  is  rewarded  with  the  testimony  of  an 
approving  conscience;  but  persons  who  wantonly  defy  the 
necessary,  though  atrociously  exaggerated,  precautions  of 
government  in  the  matter  of  property,  at  the  same  time 
that  they  commit  an  alarming  hostility  against  the  whole, 
are,  as  to  their  own  concerns,  scarcely  less  absurd  and  self- 
neglectful  than  the  man  who  should  set  himself  up  as  a 
mark  for  a  file  of  musketeers  to  shoot  at. 

Viewing  the  subject  in  this  light,  I  not  only  determined 
that  I  would  have  no  share  in  their  occupation  myself,  but 
thought  I  could  not  do  less,  in  return  for  the  benefits  I 
had  received  from  them,  than  endeavour  to  dissuade  them 
from  an  employment  in  which  they  must  themselves  be  the 
greatest  sufferers.     My  expostulation  met  with  a  various 


284  ADVENTURES  OF 

reception.  All  the  persons  to  whom  it  was  addressed  had 
been  tolerably  successful  in  persuading  themselves  of  the 
innocence  of  their  calling;  and  what  remained  of  doubt  in 
their  mind  was  smothered,  and,  so  to  speak,  laboriously 
forgotten.  Some  of  them  laughed  at  my  arguments,  as  a 
ridiculous  piece  of  missionary  quixotism.  Others,  and  par- 
ticularly the  captain,  repelled  them  with  the  boldness  of  a 
man  that  knows  he  has  got  the  strongest  side.  But  this 
sentiment  of  ease  and  self-satisfaction  did  not  long  remain. 
They  had  been  used  to  arguments  derived  from  religion 
and  the  sacredness  of  law.  They  had  long  ago  shaken  these 
from  them  as  so  many  prejudices.  But  my  view  of  the 
subject  appealed  to  principles  which  they  could  not  con- 
test, and  had  by  no  means  the  air  of  that  customary  re- 
proof which  is  for  ever  dinned  in  our  ears  without  finding 
one  responsive  chord  in  our  hearts.  Urged,  as  they  now 
were,  with  objections  unexpected  and  cogent,  some  of  those 
to  whom  I  addressed  them  began  to  grow  peevish  and  im- 
patient of  the  intrusive  remonstrance.  But  this  was  by  no 
means  the  case  with  Mr.  Raymond.  He  was  possessed  of 
a  candour  that  I  have  seldom  seen  equalled.  He  was  sur- 
prised to  hear  objections  so  powerful  to  that  which,  as  a 
matter  of  speculation,  he  believed  he  had  examined  on  all 
sides.  He  revolved  them  with  impartiality  and  care.  He 
admitted  them  slowly,  but  he  at  length  fully  admitted  them. 
He  had  now  but  one  rejoinder  in  reserve. 

"Alas!  Williams,"  said  he,  "it  would  have  been  fortunate 
for  me  if  these  views  had  been  presented  to  me  previously 
to  my  embracing  my  present  profession.  It  is  now  too  late. 
Those  very  laws  which,  by  a  perception  of  their  iniquity, 
drove  me  to  what  I  am  preclude  my  return.  God,  we  are 
told,  judges  of  men  by  what  they  are  at  the  period  of 
arraignment,  and  whatever  be  their  crimes,  if  they  have 
seen  and  abjured  the  folly  of  those  crimes,  receives  them 
to  favour.  But  the  institutions  of  countries  that  profess 
to  worship  this  God  admit  no  such  distinctions.  They 
leave  no  room  for  amendment,  and  seem  to  have  a  brutal 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  285 

delight  in  confounding  the  demerits  of  offenders.  It  sig- 
nifies not  what  is  the  character  of  the  individual  at  the 
hour  of  trial.  How  changed,  how  spotless,  and  how  useful, 
avails  him  nothing.  If  they  discover  at  the  distance  of 
fourteen  x  or  of  forty  years  2  an  action  for  which  the  law 
ordains  that  his  life  shall  be  the  forfeit,  though  the  interval 
should  have  been  spent  with  the  purity  of  a  saint  and  the 
devotedness  of  a  patriot,  they  disdain  to  inquire  into  it. 
What,  then,  can  I  do?  Am  I  not  compelled  to  go  on  in 
folly,  having  once  begun?" 

1  Eugene  Aram.     See  Annual  Register  for  1759. 

2  William  Andrew  Home.     Ibid. 


CHAPTER  THIRTY 

I  WAS  extremely  affected  by  this  plea.  I  could  only 
answer,  that  Mr.  Raymond  must  himself  be  the  best 
judge  of  the  course  it  became  him  to  hold;  I  trusted 
the  case  was  not  so  desperate  as  he  imagined. 

This  subject  was  pursued  no  further,  and  was  in  some 
degree  driven  from  my  thoughts  by  an  incident  of  a  very 
extraordinary  nature. 

I  have  already  mentioned  the  animosity  that  was  enter- 
tained against  me  by  the  infernal  portress  of  this  solitary 
mansion.  Gines,  the  expelled  member  of  the  gang,  had 
been  her  particular  favourite.  She  submitted  to  his  exile 
indeed,  because  her  genius  felt  subdued  by  the  energy  and 
inherent  superiority  of  Mr.  Raymond;  but  she  submitted 
with  murmuring  and  discontent.  Not  daring  to  resent  the 
conduct  of  the  principal  in  this  affair,  she  collected  all  the 
bitterness  of  her  spirit  against  me. 

To  the  unpardonable  offence  I  had  thus  committed  in 
the  first  instance,  were  added  the  reasonings  I  had  lately 
offered  against  the  profession  of  robbery.  Robbery  was  a 
fundamental  article  in  the  creed  of  this  hoary  veteran,  and 
she  listened  to  my  objections  with  the  same  unaffected 
astonishment  and  horror  that  an  old  woman  of  other  habits 
would  listen  to  one  who  objected  to  the  agonies  and  disso- 
lution of  the  Creator  of  the  world  or  to  the  garment  of 
imputed  righteousness  prepared  to  envelop  the  souls  of  the 
elect.  Like  the  religious  bigot,  she  was  sufficiently  dis- 
posed to  avenge  an  hostility  against  her  opinions  by  the 
weapons  of  sublunary  warfare. 

Meanwhile  I  had  smiled  at  the  impotence  of  her  malice, 
as  an  object  of  contempt  rather  than  alarm.  She  perceived, 
as  I  imagine,  the  slight  estimation  in  which  I  held  her, 

286 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  287 

and  this  did  not  a  little  increase  the  perturbation  of  her 
thoughts. 

One  day  I  was  left  alone,  with  no  other  person  in  the 
house  than  this  swarthy  sibyl.  The  thieves  had  set  out 
upon  an  expedition  about  two  hours  after  sunset  on  the 
preceding  evening,  and  had  not  returned,  as  they  were  ac- 
customed to  do,  before  daybreak  the  next  morning.  This 
was  a  circumstance  that  sometimes  occurred,  and  therefore 
did  not  produce  any  extraordinary  alarm.  At  one  time  the 
scent  of  prey  would  lead  them  beyond  the  bounds  they  had 
prescribed  themselves,  and  at  another  the  fear  of  pursuit; 
the  life  of  a  thief  is  always  uncertain.  The  old  woman  had 
been  preparing  during  the  night  for  the  meal  to  which  they 
would  expect  to  sit  down  as  soon  as  might  be  after  their 
return. 

For  myself,  I  had  learned  from  their  habits  to  be  indif- 
ferent to  the  regular  return  of  the  different  parts  of  the 
day,  and  in  some  degree  to  turn  day  into  night,  and  night 
into  day.  I  had  been  now  several  weeks  in  this  residence, 
and  the  season  was  considerably  advanced.  I  had  passed 
some  hours  during  the  night  in  ruminating  on  my  situa- 
tion. The  character  and  manners  of  the  men  among  whom 
I  lived  were  disgusting  to  me.  Their  brutal  ignorance, 
their  ferocious  habits,  and  their  coarse  behaviour,  instead 
of  becoming  more  tolerable  by  custom,  hourly  added  force 
to  my  original  aversion.  The  uncommon  vigour  of  their 
minds,  and  acuteness  of  their  invention  in  the  business  they 
pursued,  compared  with  the  odiousness  of  that  business  and 
their  habitual  depravity,  awakened  in  me  sensations  too 
painful  to  be  endured.  Moral  disapprobation,  at  least  in 
a  mind  unsubdued  by  philosophy,  I  found  to  be  one  of  the 
most  fertile  sources  of  disquiet  and  uneasiness.  From  this 
pain  the  society  of  Mr.  Raymond  by  no  means  relieved  me. 
He  was  indeed  eminently  superior  to  the  vices  of  the  rest; 
but  I  did  not  less  exquisitely  feel  how  much  he  was  out 
of  his  place,  how  disproportionably  associated,  or  how  con- 
temptibly employed.     I  had  attempted  to  counteract  the 


288  ADVENTURES  OF 

errors  under  which  he  and  his  companions  laboured;  but  I 
had  found  the  obstacles  that  presented  themselves  greater 
than  I  had  imagined. 

What  was  I  to  do?  Was  I  to  wait  the  issue  of  this  my 
missionary  undertaking,  or  was  I  to  withdraw  myself  imme- 
diately? When  I  withdrew,  ought  that  to  be  done  pri- 
vately, or  with  an  open  avowal  of  my  design,  and  an  en- 
deavour to  supply  by  the  force  of  example  what  was  defi- 
cient in  my  arguments?  It  was  certainly  improper,  as  I 
declined  all  participation  in  the  pursuits  of  these  men,  did 
not  pay  my  contribution  of  hazard  to  the  means  by  which 
they  subsisted,  and  had  no  congeniality  with  their  habits, 
that  I  should  continue  to  reside  with  them  longer  than  was 
absolutely  necessary.  There  was  one  circumstance  that 
rendered  this  deliberation  particularly  pressing.  They  in- 
tended in  a  few  days  removing  from  their  present  habita- 
tion to  a  haunt  to  which  they  were  accustomed,  in  a  dis- 
tant county.  If  I  did  not  propose  to  continue  with  them, 
it  would  perhaps  be  wrong  to  accompany  them  in  this  re- 
moval. The  state  of  calamity  to  which  my  inexorable 
prosecutor  had  reduced  me  had  made  the  encounter  even 
of  a  den  of  robbers  a  fortunate  adventure.  But  the  time 
that  had  since  elapsed  had  probably  been  sufficient  to  relax 
the  keenness  of  the  quest  that  was  made  after  me.  I  sighed 
for  that  solitude  and  obscurity,  that  retreat  from  the  vexa- 
tions of  the  world  and  the  voice  even  of  common  fame, 
which  I  had  proposed  to  myself  when  I  broke  my  prison. 

Such  were  the  meditations  which  now  occupied  my  mind. 
At  length  I  grew  fatigued  with  continual  contemplation, 
and  to  relieve  myself  pulled  out  a  pocket  Horace,  the  legacy 
of  my  beloved  Brightwel!  I  read  with  avidity  the  epistle 
in  which  he  so  beautifully  describes  to  Fuscus,  the  gram- 
marian, the  pleasures  of  rural  tranquillity  and  independ- 
ence. By  this  time  the  sun  rose  from  behind  the  eastern 
hills,  and  I  opened  my  casement  to  contemplate  it.  The 
day  commenced  with  peculiar  brilliancy,  and  was  accom- 
panied with  all  those  charms  which  the  poets  of  nature,  as 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  289 

they  have  been  styled,  have  so  much  delighted  to  describe. 
There  was  something  in  this  scene,  particularly  as  succeed- 
ing to  the  active  exertions  of  intellect,  that  soothed  the 
mind  to  composure.  Insensibly  a  confused  revery  invaded 
my  faculties:  I  withdrew  from  the  window,  threw  myself 
upon  the  bed,  and  fell  asleep. 

I  do  not  recollect  the  precise  images  which  in  this  situa- 
tion passed  through  my  thoughts,  but  I  know  that  they 
concluded  with  the  idea  of  some  person,  the  agent  of  ZSIr. 
Falkland,  approaching  to  assassinate  me.  This  thought 
had  probably  been  suggested  by  the  project  I  meditated  of 
entering:  once  again  into  the  world,  and  throwing  mvself 
within  the  sphere  of  his  possible  vengeance.  I  imagined 
that  the  design  of  the  murderer  was  to  come  upon  me  by 
surprise,  that  I  was  aware  of  his  design,  and  yet.  by  some 
fascination,  had  no  thought  of  evading  it.  I  heard  the 
steps  of  the  murderer  as  he  cautiously  approached.  I 
seemed  to  listen  to  his  constrained  yet  audible  breathings. 
He  came  up  to  the  corner  where  I  was  placed,  and  then 
stopped. 

The  idea  became  too  terrible:  I  started,  opened  my  eyes, 
and  beheld  the  execrable  hag  before  mentioned  standing 
over  me  with  a  butcher's  cleaver.  I  shifted  my  situation 
with  a  speed  that  seemed  too  swift  for  volition,  and  the 
blow  already  aimed  at  my  scull  sunk  impotent  upon  the 
bed.  Before  she  could  wholly  recover  her  posture  I  sprung 
upon  her.  seized  hold  of  the  weapon,  and  had  nearly  wrested 
it  from  her.  But  in  a  moment  she  resumed  her  strength 
and  her  desperate  purpose,  and  we  had  a  furious  struggle 
— she  impelled  by  inveterate  malice,  and  I  resisting  for  my 
life.  Her  vigour  was  truly  Amazonian,  and  at  no  time  had 
I  ever  occasion  to  contend  with  a  more  formidable  oppo- 
nent. Her  glance  was  rapid  and  exact,  and  the  shock  with 
which  from  time  to  time  she  impelled  her  whole  frame  in- 
conceivably vehement.  At  length  I  was  victorious,  took 
from  her  the  instrument  of  death,  and  threw  her  upon  the 
ground.     Till   now   the   earnestness   of  her  exertions   had 


290  ADVENTURES  OF 

curbed  her  rage;  but  now  she  gnashed  with  her  teeth,  her 
eyes  seemed  as  if  starting  from  their  sockets,  and  her  body 
heaved  with  uncontrollable  insanity. 

"Rascal!   devil!"  she  exclaimed,  "what  do  you  mean  to 
do  to  me?" 

Till  now  the  scene  had  passed  uninterrupted  by  a  single 
word. 

"Nothing,"  I  replied:  "begone,  infernal  witch!  and  leave 
me  to  myself." 

"Leave  you!     No:  I  will  thrust  my  fingers  through  your 

/ribs,  and  drink  your  blood! — You  conquer  me? — Ha,  ha! 

— Yes,  yes;  you  shall! — I  will  sit  upon  you,  and  press  you 

to  hell!     I  will  roast  you  with  brimstone,  and  dash  your 

entrails  into  your  eyes!     Ha,  ha! — ha!" 

Saying  this,  she  sprung  up,  and  prepared  to  attack  me 
with  redoubled  fury.  I  seized  her  hands,  and  compelled 
her  to  sit  upon  the  bed.  Thus  restrained,  she  continued  to 
express  the  tumult  of  her  thoughts  by  grinning,  by  certain 
furious  motions  of  her  head,  and  by  occasional  vehement 
efforts  to  disengage  herself  from  my  grasp.  These  contor- 
tions and  starts  were  of  the  nature  of  those  fits  in  which 
the  patients  are  commonly  supposed  to  need  three  or  four 
persons  to  hold  them.  But  I  found  by  experience  that, 
under  the  circumstances  in  which  I  was  placed,  my  single 
strength  was  sufficient.  The  spectacle  of  her  emotions  was 
inconceivably  frightful.  Her  violence  at  length,  however, 
began  to  abate,  and  she  became  convinced  of  the  hopeless- 
ness of  the  contest. 

"Let  me  go!"  said  she.  "Why  do  you  hold  me?  I  will 
not  be  held." 

"I  wanted  you  gone  from  the  first,"  replied  I.  "Are  you 
contented  to  go  now?" 

"Yes,  I  tell  you,  misbegotten  villain!     Yes,  rascal!" 

I  immediately  loosed  my  hold.  She  flew  to  the  door, 
and,  holding  it  in  her  hand,  said,  "I  will  be  the  death  of 
you  yet:  you  shall  not  be  your  own  man  twenty-four  hours 
longer!"    With  these  words  she  shut  the  door,  and  locked 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  291 

it  upon  me.  An  action  so  totally  unexpected  startled  me. 
Whither  was  she  gone?  What  was  it  she  intended?  To 
perish  by  the  machinations  of  such  a  hag  as  this  was  a 
thought  not  to  be  endured.  Death  in  any  form  brought 
upon  us  by  surprise,  and  for  which  the  mind  has  had  no 
time  to  prepare,  is  inexpressibly  terrible.  My  thoughts 
wandered  in  breathless  horror  and  confusion,  and  all  within 
was  uproar.  I  endeavoured  to  break  the  door,  but  in  vain. 
I  went  round  the  room  in  search  of  some  tool  to  assist  me. 
At  length  I  rushed  against  it  with  a  desperate  effort,  to 
which  it  yielded,  and  had  nearly  thrown  me  from  the  top 
of  the  stairs  to  the  bottom. 

I  descended  with  all  possible  caution  and  vigilance.  I 
entered  the  room  which  served  us  for  a  kitchen,  but  it  was 
deserted.  I  searched  every  other  apartment  in  vain.  I 
went  out  among  the  ruins;  still  I  discovered  nothing  of  my 
late  assailant.  It  was  extraordinary:  what  could  be  become 
of  her?  what  was  I  to  conclude  from  her  disappearance? 
I  reflected  on  her  parting  menace, — "I  should  not  be  my 
own  man  twenty-four  hours  longer.*'  It  was  mysterious! 
it  did  not  seem  to  be  the  menace  of  assassination. 

Suddenly  the  recollection  of  the  handbill  brought  to  us 
by  Larkins  rushed  upon  my  memory.  Was  it  possible  that 
she  alluded  to  that  in  her  parting  words?  Would  she  set 
out  upon  such  an  expedition  by  herself?  Was  it  not  dan- 
gerous to  the  whole  fraternity,  if,  without  the  smallest  pre- 
caution, she  should  bring  the  officers  of  justice  in  the  midst 
of  them?  It  was  perhaps  improbable  she  would  engage  in 
an  undertaking  thus  desperate.  It  was  not,  however,  easy 
to  answer  for  the  conduct  of  a  person  in  her  state  of  mind. 
Should  I  wait,  and  risk  the  preservation  of  my  liberty  upon 
the  issue? 

To  this  question  I  returned  an  immediate  negative.  I 
had  resolved  in  a  short  time  to  quit  my  present  situation, 
and  the  difference  of  a  little  sooner  or  a  little  later  could 
not  be  very  material.  It  promised  to  be  neither  agreeable 
nor  prudent  for  me  to  remain  under  the  same  roof  with  a 


292  ADVENTURES  OF 

person  who  had  manifested  such  a  fierce  and  inexpiable 
hostility.  But  the  consideration  which  had  inexpressibly 
the  most  weight  with  me  belonged  to  the  ideas  of  imprison- 
ment, trial,  and  death.  The  longer  they  had  formed  the 
subject  of  my  contemplation,  the  more  forcibly  was  I  im- 
pelled to  avoid  them.  I  had  entered  upon  a  system  of  action 
for  that  purpose;  I  had  already  made  many  sacrifices;  and 
I  believed  that  I  would  never  miscarry  in  this  project 
through  any  neglect  of  mine.  The  thought  of  what  was  re- 
served for  me  by  my  persecutors  sickened  my  very  soul; 
and  the  more  intimately  I  was  acquainted  with  oppression 
and  injustice,  the  more  deeply  was  I  penetrated  with  the  ab- 
horrence to  which  they  are  entitled. 

Such  were  the  reasons   that  determined  me   instantly, 
abruptly,  without  leave-taking,  or  acknowledgment  for  the 
peculiar  and  repeated  favours  I  had  received,  to  quit  a  habi- 
tation to  which,  for  six  weeks,  I  had  apparently  been  in- 
debted for  protection  from  trial,  conviction,  and  an  igno- 
minious death.    I  had  come  hither  penniless;  I  quitted  my 
abode  with  the  sum  of  a  tew  guineas  in  my  possession,  Mr. 
Raymond  having  insisted  upon  my  taking  a  share  at  the 
time  that  each  man  received  his  dividend  from  the  com- 
mon stock.    Though  I  had  reason  to  suppose  that  the  heat 
of  the  pursuit  against  me  would  be  somewhat  remitted  by 
the  time  that  had  elapsed,  the  magnitude  of  the  mischief 
that,  in  an  unfavourable  event,  might  fall  on  me,  determined 
me  to  neglect  no  imaginable  precaution.    I  recollected  the 
handbill  which  was  the  source  of  my  present  alarm,  and 
conceived  that  one  of  the  principal  dangers  which  threat- 
ened me  was  the  recognition  of  my  person,  either  by  such  as 
had  previously  known  me,  or  even  by  strangers.    It  seemed 
prudent,  therefore,  to  disguise  it  as  effectually  as  I  could. 
For  this  purpose  I  had  recourse  to  a  parcel  of  tattered  gar- 
ments, that  lay  in  a  neglected  corner  of  our  habitation.    The 
disguise  I  chose  was  that  of  a  beggar.     Upon  this  plan,  I 
threw  off  my  shirt;  I  tied  a  handkerchief  about  my  head, 
with  which  I  took  care  to  cover  one  of  my  eyes;  over  this  I 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  293 

drew  a  piece  of  an  old  woollen  nightcap.  I  selected  the 
worst  apparel  I  could  find;  and  this  I  reduced  to  a  still 
more  deplorable  condition,  by  rents  that  I  purposely  made 
in  various  places.  Thus  equipped,  I  surveyed  myself  in  a 
looking-glass.  I  had  rendered  my  appearance  complete; 
nor  would  any  one  have  suspected  that  I  was  not  one  of  the 
fraternity  to  which  I  assumed  to  belong.  I  said,  "This  is 
the  form  in  which  tyranny  and  injustice  oblige  me  to  seek 
for  refuge;  but  better,  a  thousand  times  better  is  it,  thus  to 
incur  contempt  with  the  dregs  of  mankind,  than  trust  to 
the  tender  mercies  of  our  superiors!" 


CHAPTER  THIRTY-ONE 

THE  only  rule  that  I  had  laid  down  to  myself  in  trav- 
ersing the  forest  was  to  take  a  direction  as  oppo- 
site as  possible  to  that  which  led  to  the  scene  of 
my  late  imprisonment.  After  about  two  hours'  walking  I 
arrived  at  the  termination  of  this  ruder  scene,  and  reached 
that  part  of  the  country  which  is  enclosed  and  cultivated. 
Here  I  sat  down  by  the  side  of  a  brook,  and  pulling  out  a 
crust  of  bread  which  I  had  brought  away  with  me,  rested 
and  refreshed  myself.  While  I  continued  in  this  place,  I 
began  to  ruminate  upon  the  plan  I  should  lay  down  for  my 
future  proceedings;  and  my  propensity  now  led  me,  as  it 
had  done  in  a  former  instance,  to  fix  upon  the  capital,  which 
I  believed,  besides  its  other  recommendations,  would  prove 
the  safest  place  for  concealment.  During  these  thoughts  I 
saw  a  couple  of  peasants  passing  at  a  small  distance,  and  in- 
quired of  them  respecting  the  London  road.  By  their  de- 
scription I  understood  that  the  most  immediate  way  would 
be  to  repass  a  part  of  the  forest,  and  that  it  would  be  neces- 
sary to  approach  considerably  nearer  to  the  county-town 
than  I  was  at  the  spot  which  I  had  at  present  reached.  I 
did  not  imagine  that  this  could  be  a  circumstance  of  con- 
siderable importance.  My  disguise  appeared  to  be  a  suf- 
ficient security  against  momentary  danger;  and  I  therefore 
took  a  path,  though  not  the  most  direct  one,  which  led  to- 
wards the  point  they  suggested. 

Some  of  the  occurrences  of  the  day  are  deserving  to  be 
mentioned.  As  I  passed  along  a  road  which  lay  in  my  way 
for  a  few  miles,  I  saw  a  carriage  advancing  in  the  opposite 
direction.  I  debated  with  myself  for  a  moment,  whether  I 
should  pass  it  without  notice,  or  should  take  this  occasion, 
by  voice  or  gesture,  of  making  an  essay  of  my  trade.     This 

294 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  295 

idle  disquisition  was,  however,  speedily  driven  from  my 
mind  when  I  perceived  that  the  carriage  was  Mr.  Falkland's. 
The  suddenness  of  the  encounter  struck  me  with  terror, 
though  perhaps  it  would  have  been  difficult  for  calm  reflec- 
tion to  have  discovered  any  considerable  danger.  I  with- 
drew from  the  road,  and  skulked  behind  a  hedge  till  it  should 
have  completely  gone  by.  I  was  too  much  occupied  with 
my  own  feelings  to  venture  to  examine  whether  or  no  the 
terrible  adversary  of  my  peace  were  in  the  carriage.  I  per- 
suaded myself  that  he  was.  I  looked  after  the  equipage, 
and  exclaimed,  "There  you  may  see  the  luxurious  accom- 
modations and  the  appendages  of  guilt,  and  here  the  for- 
lornness  that  awaits  upon  innocence!"' — I  was  to  blame  to 
imagine  that  my  case  was  singular  in  that  respect.  I  only 
mention  it  to  show  how  the  most  trivial  circumstance  con- 
tributes to  imbitter  the  cup  to  the  man  of  adversity.  The 
thought,  however,  was  a  transient  one.  I  had  learned  this 
lesson  from  my  sufferings,  not  to  indulge  in  the  luxury-  of 
discontent.  As  my  mind  recovered  its  tranquillity,  I  be- 
gan to  inquire  whether  the  phenomenon  I  had  just  seen 
could  have  any  relation  to  myself.  But  though  my  mind 
was  extremely  inquisitive  and  versatile  in  this  respect,  I 
could  discover  no  sufficient  ground  upon  which  to  build  a 
judgment. 

At  night  I  entered  a  little  public-house  at  the  extremity 
of  a  village,  and,  seating  myself  in  a  corner  of  the  kitchen, 
asked  for  some  bread  and  cheese.  While  I  was  sitting  at  my 
repast,  three  or  four  labourers  came  in  for  a  little  refresh- 
ment after  their  work.  Ideas  respecting  the  inequality  of 
rank  pervade  every  order  in  society;  and  as  my  appearance 
was  meaner  and  more  contemptible  than  theirs,  I  found  it 
expedient  to  give  way  to  these  gentry  of  a  village  alehouse, 
and  remove  to  an  obscurer  station.  I  was  surprised,  and  not 
a  little  startled,  to  find  them  fall  almost  immediately  into 
conversation  about  my  history,  whom,  with  a  slight  varia- 
tion of  circumstances,  they  styled  the  notorious  house- 
breaker, Kit  Williams. 


M 


296  ADVENTURES  OF 

"Damn  the  fellow,"  said  one  of  them,  "one  never  hears 
of  anything  else.  O'  my  life,,  I  think  he  makes  talk  for  the 
whole  country." 

"That  is  very  true,"  replied  another.  "I  was  at  the 
market-town  to-day  to  sell  some  oats  for  my  master,  and 
there  was  a  hue  and  cry  some  of  them  thought  they  had  got 
him,  but  it  was  a  false  alarm." 

"That  hundred  guineas  is  a  fine  thing/'  rejoined  the  first. 
"I  should  be  glad  if  so  be  as  how  it  fell  in  my  way." 

"For  the  matter  of  that,"  said  his  companion,  "I  should 
like  a  hundred  guineas  as  well  as  another.  But  I  cannot 
be  of  your  mind  for  all  that.  I  should  never  think  money 
would  do  me  any  good  that  had  been  the  means  of  bringing 
a  Christian  creature  to  the  gallows." 

"Poh,  that  is  all  my  granny!  Some  folks  must  be  hanged, 
to  keep  the  wheels  of  our  state-folks  a-going.  Besides,  I 
could  forgive  the  fellow  all  his  other  robberies,  but  that  he 
should  have  been  so  hardened  as  to  break  the  house  of  his 
own  master  at  last,  that  is  too  bad." 

"Lord!  lord!"  replied  the  other,  "I  see  you  know  nothing 
of  the  matter!  I  will  tell  you  how  it  was,  as  I  learned  it  at 
the  town.  I  question  whether  he  ever  robbed  his  master 
at  all.  But,  hark  you!  you  must  know  as  how  that  Squire 
Falkland  was  once  tried  for  murder" — 

"Yes,  yes,  we  know  that." 

"Well,  he  was  as  innocent  as  the  child  unborn.  But  I 
suppose  as  how  he  is  a  little  soft  or  so.  And  so  Kit  Wil- 
liams— Kit  is  a  devilish  cunning  fellow,  you  may  judge  that 
from  his  breaking  prison  no  less  than  five  times, — so,  I  say, 
he  threatened  to  bring  his  master  to  trial  at  'size  all  over 
again,  and  so  frightened  him,  and  got  money  from  him  at 
divers  times.  Till  at  last  one  Squire  Forester,  a  relation  of 
t'other,  found  it  all  out.  And  he  made  the  hell  of  a  rum- 
pus, and  sent  away  Kit  to  prison  in  a  twinky;  and  I  believe 
he  would  have  been  hanged:  for  when  two  squires  lay  their 
heads  together,  they  do  not  much  matter  law,  you  know;  or 
else  they  twist  the  law  to  their  own  ends,  I  cannot  exactly 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  207 

say  which;  but  it  is  much  at  one  when  the  poor  fellow's 
breath  is  out  of  his  body." 

Though  this  story  was  very  circumstantially  told,  and 
with  a  sufficient  detail  of  particulars,  it  did  not  pass  un- 
questioned. Each  man  maintained  the  justness  of  his  own 
statement,  and  the  dispute  was  long  and  obstinately  pur- 
sued. Historians  and  commentators  at  length  withdrew 
together.  The  terrors  with  which  I  was  seized  when  this 
conversation  began  were  extreme.  I  stole  a  sidelong 
glance  to  one  quarter  and  another,  to  observe  if  any 
man's  attention  was  turned  upon  me.  I  trembled  as  if  in 
an  ague-fit;  and,  at  first,  felt  continual  impulses  to  quit  the 
house,  and  take  to  my  heels.  I  drew  closer  to  my  corner, 
held  aside  my  head,  and  seemed  from  time  to  time  to  un- 
dergo a  total  revolution  of  the  animal  economy. 

At  length  the  tide  of  ideas  turned.  Perceiving  they  paid 
no  attention  to  me,  the  recollection  of  the  full  security  my 
disguise  afforded  recurred  strongly  to  my  thoughts;  and  I 
began  inwardly  to  exult,  though  I  did  not  venture  to  obtrude 
myself  to  examination.  By  degrees  I  began  to  be  amused 
at  the  absurdity  of  their  tales,  and  the  variety  of  the  false- 
hoods I  heard  asserted  around  me.  My  soul  seemed  to  ex- 
pand; I  felt  a  pride  in  the  self-possession  and  lightness  of 
heart  with  which  I  could  listen  to  the  scene;  and  I  deter- 
mined to  prolong  and  heighten  the  enjoyment.  Accordingly, 
when  they  were  withdrawn,  I  addressed  myself  to  our 
hostess,  a  buxom,  bluff,  good-humoured  widow,  and  asked 
what  sort  of  a  man  this  Kit  Williams  might  be?  She  re- 
plied, that,  as  she  was  informed,  he  was  as  handsome,  likely 
a  lad,  as  any  in  four  counties  round ;  and  that  she  loved  him 
for  his  cleverness  by  which  he  outwitted  all  the  keepers  they 
could  set  over  him,  and  made  his  way  through  stone  walls 
as  if  they  were  so  many  cobwebs.  I  observed,  that  the 
country  was  so  thoroughly  alarmed,  that  I  did  not  think 
it  possible  he  should  escape  the  pursuit  that  was  set  up  after 
him.  This  idea  excited  her  immediate  indignation:  she 
said,  she  hoped  he  was  far  enough  away  by  this  time;  but 


7 


298  ADVENTURES  OF 

if  not,  she  wished  the  curse  of  God  might  light  on  them 
that  betrayed  so  noble  a  fellow  to  an  ignominious  end!  — 
Though  she  little  thought  that  the  person  of  whom  she 
spoke  was  so  near  her,  yet  the  sincere  and  generous  warmth 
with  which  she  interested  herself  in  my  behalf  gave  me 
considerable  pleasure.  With  this  sensation  to  sweeten  the 
fatigues  of  the  day  and  the  calamities  of  my  situation,  I 
retired  from  the  kitchen  to  a  neighbouring  barn,  laid  myself 
down  upon  some  straw,  and  fell  into  a  profound  sleep. 

The  next  day  about  noon,  as  I  was  pursuing  my  journey, 
I  was  overtaken  by  two  men  on  horseback,  who  stopped  me, 
to  inquire  respecting  a  person  that  they  supposed  might  have 
passed  along  that  road.  As  they  proceeded  in  their  descrip- 
tion, I  perceived,  with  astonishment  and  terror,  that  I  was 
myself  the  person  to  whom  their  questions  related.  They 
entered  into  a  tolerably  accurate  detail  of  the  various  char- 
acteristics by  which  my  person  might  best  be  distinguished. 
They  said,  they  had  good  reason  to  believe  that  I  had  been 
seen  at  a  place  in  that  county  the  very  day  before.  While 
they  were  speaking  a  third  person,  who  had  fallen  behind, 
came  up;  and  my  alarm  was  greatly  increased  upon  seeing 
that  this  person  was  the  servant  of  Mr.  Forester,  who  had 
visited  me  in  prison  about  a  fortnight  before  my  escape.  My 
best  resource  in  this  crisis  was  composure  and  apparent  in- 
difference. It  was  fortunate  for  me  that  my  disguise  was 
so  complete  that  the  eye  of  Mr.  Falkland  itself  could  scarcely 
have  penetrated  it.  I  had  been  aware  for  some  time  before 
that  this  was  a  refuge  which  events  might  make  necessary, 
and  had  endeavoured  to  arrange  and  methodise  my  ideas 
upon  the  subject.  From  my  youth  I  had  possessed  a  con- 
siderable facility  in  the  art  of  imitation ;  and  when  I  quitted 
my  retreat  in  the  habitation  of  Mr.  Raymond,  I  adopted, 
along  with  my  beggar's  attire,  a  peculiar  slouching  and 
clownish  gait,  to  be  used  whenever  there  should  appear  the 
least  chance  of  my  being  observed,  together  with  an  Irish 
brogue  which  I  had  had  an  opportunity  of  studying  in  my 
prison.     Such  are  the  miserable  expedients,  and  so  great 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  299 

the  studied  artifice,  which  man,  who  never  deserves  the 
name  of  manhood  but  in  proportion  as  he  is  erect  and  in- 
dependent, may  find  it  necessary  to  employ,  for  the  purpose 
of  eluding  the  inexorable  animosity  and  unfeeling  tyranny 
of  his  fellow-man!  I  had  made  use  of  this  brogue,'  though 
I  have  not  thought  it  necessary  to  write  it  down  in  my  nar- 
rative, in  the  conversation  of  the  village  alehouse.  Mr.  For- 
ester's servant,  as  he  came  up,  observed  that  his  companions 
were  engaged  in  conversation  with  me;  and,  guessing  at  the 
subject,  asked  whether  they  had  gained  any  intelligence. 
He  added  to  the  information  at  which  they  had  already 
hinted,  that  a  resolution  was  taken  to  spare  neither  diligence 
nor  expense  for  my  discovery  and  apprehension;  and  that 
they  were  satisfied,  if  I  were  above  ground  and  in  the  king- 
dom, it  would  be  impossible  for  me  to  escape  them. 

Every  new  incident  that  had  occurred  to  me  tended  to 
impress  upon  my  mind  the  extreme  danger  to  which  I  was 
exposed.  I  could  almost  have  imagined  that  I  was  the  sole 
subject  of  general  attention,  and  that  the  whole  world  was 
in  arms  to  exterminate  me.  The  very  idea  tingled  through 
every  fibre  of  my  frame.  But,  terrible  as  it  appeared  to  my 
imagination,  it  did  but  give  new  energy  to  my  purpose;  and 
I  determined  that  I  would  not  voluntarily  resign  the  field, 
that  is,  literally  speaking,  my  neck  to  the  cord  of  the  execu- 
tioner, notwithstanding  the  greatest  superiority  in  my  as- 
sailants. But  the  incidents  which  had  befallen  me,  though 
they  did  not  change  my  purpose,  induced  me  to  ex- 
amine over  again  the  means  by  which  it  might  be  effected. 
The  consequence  of  this  revisal  was,  to  determine  me  to 
bend  my  course  to  the  nearest  seaport  on  the  west  side  of 
the  island,  and  transport  myself  to  Ireland.  I  cannot  now 
tell  what  it  was  that  inclined  me  to  prefer  this  scheme  to 
that  which  I  had  originally  formed.  Perhaps  the  latter, 
which  had  been  for  some  time  present  to  my  imagination, 
for  that  reason  appeared  the  more  obvious  of  the  two ;  and  I 
found  an  appearance  of  complexity,  which  the  mind  did  not 
stay  to  explain,  in  substituting  the  other  in  its  stead. 


3oo  CALEB  WILLIAMS 

I  arrived  without  further  impediment  at  the  place  from 
which  I  intended  to  sail,  inquired  for  a  vessel,  which  I  found 
ready  to  put  to  sea  in  a  few  hours,  and  agreed  with  the 
captain  for  my  passage.  Ireland  had  to  me  the  disad- 
vantage of  being  a  dependency  of  the  British  government, 
and  therefore  a  place  of  less  security  than  most  other  coun- 
tries which  are  divided  from  it  by  the  ocean.  To  judge 
from  the  diligence  with  which  I  seemed  to  be  pursued  in 
England,  it  was  not  improbable  that  the  zeal  of  my  perse- 
cutors might  follow  me  to  the  other  side  of  the  channel.  It 
was,  however,  sufficiently  agreeable  to  my  mind,  that  I  was 
upon  the  point  of  being  removed  one  step  farther  from  the 
danger  which  was  so  grievous  to  my  imagination. 

Could  there  be  any  peril  in  the  short  interval  that  was  to 
elapse,  before  the  vessel  was  to  weigh  anchor  and  quit  the 
English  shore?  Probably  not.  A  very  short  time  had  in- 
tervened between  my  determination  for  the  sea  and  my 
arrival  at  this  place ;  and  if  any  new  alarm  had  been  given 
to  my  prosecutors,  it  proceeded  from  the  old  woman  a  very 
few  days  before.  I  hoped  I  had  anticipated  their  diligence. 
Meanwhile,  that  I  might  neglect  no  reasonable  precaution,  I 
went  instantly  on  board,  resolved  that  I  would  not  unneces- 
sarily, by  walking  the  streets  of  the  town,  expose  myself  to 
any  untoward  accident.  This  was  the  first  time  I  had, 
upon  any  occasion,  taken  leave  of  my  native  country. 


CHAPTER  THIRTY-TWO 

THE  time  was  now  nearly  elapsed  that  was  prescribed 
for  our  stay,  and  orders  for  weighing  anchor  were 
every  moment  expected,  when  we  were  hailed  by  a 
boat  from  the  shore,  with  two  other  men  in  it  besides  those 
that  rowed.  They  entered  our  vessel  in  an  instant.  They 
were  officers  of  justice.  The  passengers,  five  persons  be- 
sides myself,  were  ordered  upon  deck  for  examination.  I 
was  inexpressibly  disturbed  at  the  occurrence  of  such  a  cir- 
cumstance in  so  unseasonable  a  moment.  I  took  it  for 
granted  that  it  was  of  me  they  were  in  search.  Was  it  pos- 
sible that,  by  any  unaccountable  accident,  they  should  have 
got  an  intimation  of  my  disguise?  It  was  infinitely  more 
distressing  to  encounter  them  upon  this  narrow  stage,  and 
under  these  pointed  circumstances,  than,  as  I  had  before  en- 
countered my  pursuers,  under  the  appearance  of  an  indif- 
ferent person.  My  recollection,  however,  did  not  forsake 
me.  I  confided  in  my  conscious  disguise  and  my  Irish 
brogue,  as  a  rock  of  dependence  against  all  accidents. 

No  sooner  did  we  appear  upon  the  deck  than,  to  my 
great  consternation,  I  could  observe  the  attention  of  our 
guests  principally  turned  upon  me.  They  asked  a  few 
frivolous  questions  of  such  of  my  fellow-passengers  as  hap- 
pened to  be  nearest  to  them;  and  then,  turning  to  me,  in- 
quired my  name,  who  I  was,  whence  I  came,  and  what  had 
brought  me  there?  I  had  scarcely  opened  my  mouth  to 
reply,  when,  with  one  consent,  they  laid  hold  of  me,  said  I 
was  their  prisoner,  and  declared  that  my  accent,  together 
with  the  correspondence  of  my  person,  would  be  sufficient  to 
convict  me  before  any  court  in  England.  I  was  hurried  out 
of  the  vessel  into  the  boat  in  which  they  came,  and  seated 

301 


302  ADVENTURES  OF 

between  them,  as  if  by  way  of  precaution,  lest  I  should 
spring  overboard,  and  by  any  means  escape  them. 

I  now  took  it  for  granted  that  I  was  once  more  in  the 
power  of  Mr.  Falkland;  and  the  idea  was  insupportably 
mortifying  and  oppressive  to  my  imagination.  Escape  from 
his  pursuit,  freedom  from  his  tyranny,  were  objects  upon 
which  my  whole  soul  was  bent.  Could  no  human  ingenuity 
and  exertion  effect  them?  Did  his  power  reach  through  all 
space,  and  his  eye  penetrate  every  concealment?  Was  he 
like  that  mysterious  being,  to  protect  us  from  whose  fierce 
revenge  mountains  and  hills,  we  are  told,  might  fall  on  us 
in  vain?  Xo  idea  is  more  heart-sickening  and  tremendous 
than  this.  But  in  my  case  it  was  not  a  subject  of  reasoning 
or  of  faith;  I  could  derive  no  comfort,  either  directly  from 
the  unbelief  which,  upon  religious  subjects,  some  men  avow 
to  their  own  minds;  or  secretly  from  the  remoteness  and  in- 
comprehensibility of  the  conception:  it  was  an  affair  of 
sense;  I  felt  the  fangs  of  the  tiger  striking  deep  into  my 
heart. 

But  though  this  impression  was  at  first  exceedingly  strong, 
and  accompanied  with  its  usual  attendants  of  dejection  and 
pusillanimity,  my  mind  soon  began,  as  it  were,  mechanically, 
to  turn  upon  the  consideration  of  the  distance  between  this 
seaport  and  my  county  prison,  and  the  various  opportunities 
of  escape  that  might  offer  themselves  in  the  interval.  My 
first  duty  was  to  avoid  betraying  myself  more  than  it  might 
afterward  appear  I  was  betrayed  already.  It  was  possible 
that,  though  apprehended,  my  apprehension  might  have 
been  determined  on  upon  some  slight  score,  and  that,  by 
my  dexterity,  I  might  render  my  dismission  as  seldom  as 
my  arrest  had  been.  It  was  even  possible  that  I  had  been 
seized  through  a  mistake,  and  that  the  present  measure 
might  have  no  connexion  with  Mr.  Falkland's  affair.  Upon 
every  supposition,  it  was  my  business  to  gain  information. 
In  my  passage  from  the  ship  to  the  town  I  did  not  utter  a 
word.  My  conductors  commented  on  my  sulkiness;  but  re- 
marked that  it  would  avail  me  nothing — I  should  infallibly 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  303 

swing,  as  it  was  never  known  that  anybody  got  off  who  was 
tried  for  robbing  his  majesty's  mail.  It  is  difficult  to  con- 
ceive the  lightness  of  heart  which  was  communicated  to  me 
by  these  words:  I  persisted,  however,  in  the  silence  I  had 
meditated.  From  the  rest  of  their  conversation,  which  was 
sufficiently  voluble,  I  learned  that  the  mail  from  Edinburgh 
to  London  had  been  robbed  about  ten  days  before  by  two 
Irishmen,  that  one  of  them  was  already  secured,  and  that  I 
was  taken  up  upon  suspicion  of  being  the  other.  They  had 
a  description  of  his  person,  which,  though,  as  I  afterward 
found,  it  disagreed  from  mine  in  several  material  articles, 
appeared  to  them  to  tally  to  the  minutest,  tittle.  The  intelli- 
gence that  the  whole  proceeding  against  me  was  founded  in 
a  mistake  took  an  oppressive  load  from  my  mind.  I  be- 
lieved that  I  should  immediately  be  able  to  establish  my  in- 
nocence, to  the  satisfaction  of  any  magistrate  in  the  king- 
dom; and  though  crossed  in  my  plans,  and  thwarted  in  my 
design  of  quitting  the  island,  even  after  I  was  already  at  sea, 
this  was  but  a  trifling  inconvenience  compared  with  what  I 
had  had  but  too  much  reason  to  fear. 

As  soon  as  we  came  ashore,  I  was  conducted  to  the  house 
of  a  justice  of  peace,  a  man  who  had  formerly  been  the  cap- 
tain of  a  collier,  but  who.  having  been  successful  in  the 
world,  had  quitted  this  wandering  life,  and  for  some  years 
had  had  the  honour  to  represent  his  majesty's  person.  We 
were  detained  for  some  time  in  a  sort  of  anteroom,  wait- 
ing his  reverence's  leisure.  The  persons  by  whom  I  had 
been  taken  up  were  experienced  in  their  trade;  and  insisted 
upon  employing  this  interval  in  searching  me,  in  presence 
of  two  of  his  worship's  servants.  They  found  upon  me  fif- 
teen guineas  and  some  silver.  They  required  me  to  strip  my- 
self perfectly  naked,  that  they  might  examine  whether  I 
had  bank-notes  concealed  anywhere  about  my  person. 
They  took  up  the  detached  parcels  of  my  miserable  attire 
as  I  threw  it  from  me,  and  felt  them  one  by  one,  to  discover 
whether  the  articles  of  which  they  were  in  search  might  by 
any  device  be  sewn  up  in  them.     To  all  this  I  submitted 


304  ADVENTURES  OF 

without  murmuring.  It  might  probably  come  to  the  same 
thing  at  last;  and  summary  justice  was  sufficiently  coinci- 
dent with  my  views,  my  principal  object  being  to  get  as 
soon  as  possible  out  of  the  clutches  of  the  respectable  per- 
sons who  now  had  me  in  custody. 

This  operation  was  scarcely  completed,  before  we  were 
directed  to  be  ushered  into  his  worship's  apartment.     My 
accusers  opened  the  charge,  and  told  him  they  had  been 
ordered  to  this  town,  upon  an  intimation  that  one  of  the 
persons  who  robbed  the  Edinburgh  mail  was  to  be  found 
here;  and  that  they  had  taken  me  on  board  a  vessel  which 
was  by  this  time  under  sail  for  Ireland.     "Well,"  said  his 
worship,  "that  is  your  story;  now  let  us  hear  what  account 
the  gentleman  gives  of  himself.     What  is  your  name — ha, 
sirrah?  and  from  what  part  of  Tipperary  are  you  pleased  to 
come?"    I  had  already  taken  my  determination  upon  this  ar- 
ticle; and  the  moment  I  learned  the  particulars  of  the  charge 
against  me,  resolved,  for  the  present  at  least,  to  lay  aside 
my  Irish  accent,  and  speak  my  native  tongue.     This  I  had 
done  in  the  very  words  I  had  spoken  to  my  conductors 
in  the  anteroom:  they  started  at  the  metamorphosis;  but 
they  had  gone  too  far  for  it  to  be  possible  they  should  re- 
tract, in  consistence  with  their  honour.     I  now  told  the  jus- 
tice that  I  was  no  Irishman,  nor  had  ever  been  in  that  coun- 
try: I  was  a  native  of  England.     This  occasioned  a  con- 
sulting of  the  deposition  in  which  my  person  was  supposed 
to  be  described,  and  which  my  conductors  had  brought  with 
them  for  their  direction.     To  be  sure,  that  required  that  the 
offender  should  be  an  Irishman. 

Observing  his  worship  hesitate,  I  thought  this  was  the 
time  to  push  the  matter  a  little  further.  I  referred  to  the 
paper,  and  showed  that  the  description  neither  tallied  as  to 
height  nor  complexion.  But  then  it  did  as  to  years  and  the 
colour  of  the  hair ;  and  it  was  not  this  gentleman's  habit,  as 
he  informed  me,  to  squabble  about  trifles,  or  to  let  a  man's 
neck  out  of  the  halter  for  a  pretended  flaw  of  a  few  inches 
in  his  stature.     "If  a  man  were  too  short,"  he  said,  "there 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  305 

was  no  remedy  like  a  little  stretching."  The  miscalculation 
in  my  case  happened  to  be  the  opposite  way,  but  his  rev- 
erence did  not  think  proper  to  lose  his  jest.  Upon  the 
whole,  he  was  somewhat  at  a  loss  how  to  proceed. 

My  conductors  observed  this,  and  began  to  tremble  for 
the  reward,  which,  two  hours  ago,  they  thought  as  good  as  in 
their  own  pockets.  To  retain  me  in  custody  they  judged  to 
be  a  safe  speculation ;  if  it  turned  out  a  mistake  at  last,  they 
felt  little  apprehension  of  a  suit  for  false  imprisonment  from 
a  poor  man,  accoutred  as  I  was  in  rags.  They  therefore 
urged  his  worship  to  comply  with  their  views.  They  told 
him  that  to  be  sure  the  evidence  against  me  did  not  prove 
so  strong  as  for  their  part  they  heartily  wished  it  had,  but 
that  there  were  a  number  of  suspicious  circumstances  re- 
specting me.  When  I  was  brought  up  to  them  upon  the  deck 
of  the  vessel,  I  spoke  as  fine  an  Irish  brogue  as  one  shall  hear 
in  a  summer's  day;  and  now,  all  at  once,  there  was  not  the 
least  particle  of  it  left.  In  searching  me  they  had  found 
upon  me  fifteen  guineas;  how  should  a  poor  beggar  lad,  such 
as  I  appeared,  come  honestly  by  fifteen  guineas?  Besides, 
when  they  had  stripped  me  naked,  though  my  dress  was  so 
shabby,  my  skin  had  all  the  sleekness  of  a  gentleman.  In 
fine,  for  what  purpose  could  a  poor  beggar,  who  had  never 
been  in  Ireland  in  his  life,  want  to  transport  himself  to  that 
country?  It  was  as  clear  as  the  sun  that  I  was  no  better 
than  I  should  be.  This  reasoning,  together  with  some  sig- 
nificant winks  and  gestures  between  the  justice  and  the 
plaintiffs,  brought  him  over  to  their  way  of  thinking.  He 
said  I  must  go  to  Warwick,  where  it  seems  the  other  robber 
was  at  present  in  custody,  and  be  confronted  with  him; 
and  if  then  everything  appeared  fair  and  satisfactory,  I 
should  be  discharged. 

No  intelligence  could  be  more  terrible  than  that  which 
was  contained  in  these  words.  That  I,  who  had  found  the 
whole  country  in  arms  against  me,  who  was  exposed  to  a 
pursuit  so  peculiarly  vigilant  and  penetrating,  should  now  be 
dragged  to  the  very  centre  of  the  kingdom,  without  power 


306  ADVENTURES  OF 

of  accommodating  myself  to  circumstances,  and  under  the 
immediate  custody  of  the  officers  of  justice,  seemed  to  my 
ears  almost  the  same  thing  as  if  he  had  pronounced  upon  me 
a  sentence  of  death!  I  strenuously  urged  the  injustice  of 
this  proceeding.  I  observed  to  the  magistrate  that  it  was 
impossible  I  should  be  the  person  at  whom  the  description 
pointed.  It  required  an  Irishman;  I  was  no  Irishman.  It 
described  a  person  shorter  than  I;  a  circumstance  of  all 
others  the  least  capable  of  being  counterfeited.  There  was 
not  the  slightest  reason  for  detaining  me  in  custody.  I  had 
been  already  disappointed  of  my  voyage,  and  lost  the  money 
I  had  paid  down,  through  the  officiousness  of  these  gentle- 
men in  apprehending  me.  I  assured  his  worship  that  every 
delay,  under  my  circumstances,  was  of  the  utmost  impor- 
tance to  me.  It  was  impossible  to  devise  a  greater  injury 
to  be  inflicted  on  me,  than  the  proposal  that,  instead  of  be- 
ing permitted  to  proceed  upon  my  voyage,  I  should  be  sent, 
under  arrest,  into  the  heart  of  the  kingdom. 

My  remonstrances  were  vain.  The  justice  was  by  no 
means  inclined  to  digest  the  being  expostulated  with  in  this 
manner  by  a  person  in  the  habiliments  of  a  beggar.  In  the 
midst  of  my  address  he  would  have  silenced  me  for  my  im- 
pertinence, but  that  I  spoke  with  an  earnestness  with  which 
he  was  wholly  unable  to  contend.  When  I  had  finished  he 
told  me  it  was  all  to  no  purpose,  and  that  it  might  have 
been  better  for  me  if  I  had  shown  myself  less  insolent.  It 
was  clear  that  I  was  a  vagabond  and  a  suspicious  person. 
The  more  earnest  I  showed  myself  to  get  off,  the  more  reason 
there  was  he  should  keep  me  fast.  Perhaps,  after  all,  I 
should  turn  out  to  be  the  felon  in  question.  But,  if  I  was 
not  that,  he  had  no  doubt  I  was  worse;  a  poacher,  or,  for 
what  he  knew,  a  murderer.  He  had  a  kind  of  a  notion  that 
he  had  seen  my  face  before  about  some  such  affair;  out  of 
all  doubt  I  was  an  old  offender.  He  had  it  in  his  choice 
to  send  me  to  hard  labour  as  a  vagrant,  upon  the  strength  of 
my  appearance  and  the  contradictions  in  my  story,  or  to 
order  me  to  Warwick;  and,  out  of  the  spontaneous  goodness 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  307 

of  his  disposition,  he  chose  the  milder  side  of  the  alternative. 
He  could  assure  me  I  should  not  slip  through  his  fingers. 
It  was  of  more  benefit  to  his  majesty's  government  to  hang 
one  such  fellow  as  he  suspected  me  to  be,  than  out  of  mis- 
taken tenderness  to  concern  one's  self  for  the  good  of  all  the 
beggars  in  the  nation. 

Finding  it  was  impossible  to  work  in  the  way  I  desired 
on  a  man  so  fully  impressed  with  his  own  dignity  and  im- 
portance and  my  utter  insignificance,  I  claimed  that,  at 
least,  the  money  taken  from  my  person  should  be  restored 
to  me.  This  was  granted.  His  worship  perhaps  suspected 
that  he  had  stretched  a  point  in  what  he  had  already  done, 
and  was  therefore  the  less  unwilling  to  relax  in  this  inci- 
dental circumstance.  My  conductors  did  not  oppose  them- 
selves to  this  indulgence,  for  a  reason  that  will  appear  in  the 
sequel.  The  justice,  however,  enlarged  upon  his  clemency 
in  this  proceeding.  He  did  not  know  whether  he  was  not 
exceeding  the  spirit  of  his  commission  in  complying  with  my 
demand.  So  much  money  in  my  possession  could  not  be 
honestly  come  by.  But  it  was  his  temper  to  soften,  as  far 
as  could  be  done  with  propriety,  the  strict  letter  of  the  law. 

There  were  cogent  reasons  why  the  gentlemen  who  had 
originally  taken  me  into  custody  chose  that  I  should  con- 
tinue in  their  custody  when  my  examination  was  over. 
Every  man  is,  in  his  different  mode,  susceptible  to  a  sense  of 
honour;  and  they  did  not  choose  to  encounter  the  disgrace 
that  would  accrue  to  them  if  justice  had  been  done.  Every 
man  is  in  some  degree  influenced  by  the  love  of  power ;  and 
they  were  willing  I  should  owe  any  benefit  I  received  to 
their  sovereign  grace  and  benignity,  and  not  to  the  mere  rea- 
son of  the  case.  It  was  not,  however,  an  unsubstantial  hon- 
our and  barren  power  that  formed  the  objects  of  their  pur- 
suit: no,  their  views  were  deeper  than  that.  In  a  word, 
though  they  chose  that  I  should  retire  from  the  seat  of  jus- 
tice as  I  had  come  before  it,  a  prisoner,  yet  the  tenor  of  my 
examination  had  obliged  them,  in  spite  of  themselves,  to 
suspect  that  I  was  innocent  of  the  charge  alleged  against  me. 


3o8  ADVENTURES  OF 

Apprehensive,  therefore,  that  the  hundred  guineas  which 
had  been  offered  as  a  reward  for  taking  the  robber  was 
completely  out  of  the  question  in  the  present  business,  they 
were  contented  to  strike  at  smaller  game.  Having  con- 
ducted me  to  an  inn,  and  given  directions  respecting  a  ve- 
hicle for  the  journey,  they  took  me  aside,  while  one  of  them 
addressed  me  in  the  following  manner: — 

"You  see,  my  lad,  how  the  case  stands:  hey  for  Warwick 
is  the  word!  and  when  we  are  got  there,  what  may  happen 
then  I  will  not  pretend  for  to  say.  Whether  you  are  in- 
nocent or  no  is  no  business  of  mine ;  but  you  are  not  such  a 
chicken  as  to  suppose,  if  so  be  as  you  are  innocent,  that  that 
will  make  your  game  altogether  sure.  You  say  your  busi- 
ness calls  you  another  way,  and  as  how  you  are  in  haste:  I 
scorns  to  cross  any  man  in  his  concerns  if  I  can  help  it.  If, 
therefore,  you  will  give  us  them  there  fifteen  shiners,  why 
snug  is  the  word.  They  are  of  no  use  to  you;  a  beggar, 
you  know,  is  always  at  home.  For  the  matter  of  that,  we 
could  have  had  them  in  the  way  of  business,  as  you  saw,  at 
the  justice's.  But  I  am  a  man  of  principle;  I  loves  to  do 
things  aboveboard,  and  scorns  to  extort  a  shilling  from  any 
man."  ~^s 

He  who  is  tinctured  with  principles  of  moral  discrimina- 
tion is  apt  upon  occasion  to  be  run  away  with  by  his  feelings 
in  that  respect,  and  to  forget  the  immediate  interest  of  the 
moment.  I  confess,  that  the  first  sentiment  excited  in  my 
mind  by  this  overture  was  that  of  indignation.  I  was  ir- 
resistibly impelled  to  give  utterance  to  this  feeling,  and  post- 
pone for  a  moment  the  consideration  of  the  future.  I  re- 
plied with  the  severity  which  so  base  a  proceeding  appeared 
to  deserve.  My  bear-leaders  were  considerably  surprised 
with  my  firmness,  but  seemed  to  think  it  beneath  them  to 
contest  with  me  the  principles  I  delivered.  He  who  had 
made  the  overture  contented  himself  with  replying, 
"Well,  well,  my  lad,  do  as  you  will;  you  are  not  the  first 
man  that  has  been  hanged  rather  than  part  with  a  few 
guineas."     His  words  did  not  pass  unheeded  by  me.     They 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  309 

were  strikingly  applicable  to  my  situation,  and  I  was  de- 
termined not  to  suffer  the  occasion  to  escape  me  unimproved. 
The  pride  of  these  gentlemen,  however,  was  too  great  to 
admit  of  further  parley  for  the  present.  They  left  me 
abruptly;  having  first  ordered  an  old  man,  the  father  of  the 
landlady,  to  stay  in  the  room  with  me  while  they  were  absent. 
The  old  man  they  ordered,  for  security,  to  lock  the  door, 
and  put  the  key  in  his  pocket ;  at  the  same  time  mentioning 
below-stairs  the  station  in  which  they  had  left  me,  that  the 
people  of  the  house  might  have  an  eye  upon  what  went 
forward,  and  not  suffer  me  to  escape.  What  was  the  in- 
tention of  this  manoeuvre  I  am  unable  certainly  to  pro- 
nounce. Probably  it  was  a  sort  of  compromise  between 
their  pride  and  their  avarice ;  being  desirous,  for  some  reason 
or  other,  to  drop  me  as  soon  as  convenient,  and  therefore 
determining  to  wait  the  result  of  my  private  meditations  on 
the  proposal  they  had  made. 


V 


CHAPTER  THIRTY-THREE 

THEY  were  no  sooner  withdrawn  than  I  cast  my  eye 
upon  the  old  man,  and  found  something  extremely 
venerable  and  interesting  in  his  appearance.  His 
form  was  above  the  middle  size.  It  indicated  that  his 
strength  had  been  once  considerable;  nor  was  it  at  this 
time  by  any  means  annihilated.  His  hair  was  in  consid- 
erable quantity,  and  was  as  white  as  the  drifted  snow.  His 
complexion  was  healthful  and  ruddy,  at  the  same  time  that 
his  face  was  furrowed  with  wrinkles.  In  his  eye  there  was 
remarkable  vivacity,  and  his  whole  countenance  was  strongly 
expressive  of  good-nature.  The  boorishness  of  his  rank  in 
society  was  lost  in  the  cultivation  his  mind  had  derived 
from  habits  of  sensibility  and  benevolence. 

The  view  of  his  figure  immediately  introduced  a  train 
of  ideas  into  my  mind  respecting  the  advantage  to  be  drawn 
from  the  presence  of  such  a  person.  The  attempt  to  take 
any  step  without  his  consent  was  hopeless;  for,  though  I 
should  succeed  with  regard  to  him,  he  could  easily  give  the 
alarm  to  other  persons,  who  would,  no  doubt,  be  within 
call.  Add  to  which,  I  could  scarcely  have  prevailed  on  my- 
self to  offer  any  offence  to  a  person  whose  first  appearance 
so  strongly  engaged  my  affection  and  esteem.  In  reality  my 
thoughts  were  turned  into  a  different  channel.  I  was  im- 
pressed with  an  ardent  wish  to  be  able  to  call  this  man  my 
benefactor.  Pursued  by  a  train  of  ill  fortune,  I  could  no 
longer  consider  myself  as  a  member  of  society.  I  was  a 
solitary  being,  cut  off  from  the  expectation  of  _  symrjathy , 
kindness,  and  the  good-will  of  mankind.  I  was  strongly 
impelled,  by  the  situation  in  which  the  present  moment 
placed  me,  to  indulge  in  a  luxury  which  my  destiny  seemed 

310 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  311 

to  have  denied.  I  could  not  conceive  the  smallest  compari- 
son between  the  idea  of  deriving  my  liberty  from  the  spon- 
taneous kindness  of  a  worthy  and  excellent  mind,  and  that 
of  being  indebted  for  it  to  the  selfishness  and  baseness  of 
the  worst  members  of  society.  It  was  thus  that  I  allowed 
myself  in  the  wantonness  of  refinement,  even  in  the  midst  of 
destruction. 

Guided  by  these  sentiments,  I  requested  his  attention 
to  the  circumstances  by  which  I  had  been  brought  into  my 
present  situation.  He  immediately  signified  his  assent,  and 
said  he  would  cheerfully  listen  to  anything  I  thought 
proper  to  communicate.  I  told  him,  the  persons  who  had 
just  left  me  in  charge  with  him  had  come  to  this  town  for 
the  purpose  of  apprehending  some  person  who  had  been 
guilty  of  robbing  the  mail;  that  they  had  chosen  to  take 
me  up  under  this  warrant,  and  had  conducted  me  before  a 
justice  of  the  peace;  that  they  had  soon  detected  their 
mistake,  the  person  in  question  being  an  Irishman,  and  dif- 
fering from  me  both  in  country  and  stature;  but  that,  by 
collusion  between  them  and  the  justice,  they  were  permitted 
to  retain  me  in  custody,  and  pretended  to  undertake  to 
conduct  me  to  Warwick  to  confront  me  with  my  accomplice ; 
that,  in  searching  me  at  the  justice's  they  had  found  a  sum 
of  money  in  my  possession  which  excited  their  cupidity,  and 
that  they  had  just  been  proposing  to  me  to  give  me  my  lib- 
erty upon  condition  of  my  surrendering  this  sum  into  their 
hands.  Under  these  circumstances,  I  requested  him  to  con- 
sider, whether  he  would  wish  to  render  himself  the  instru- 
ment of  their  extortion.  I  put  myself  into  his  hands,  and  sol- 
emnly averred  the  truth  of  the  facts  I  had  just  stated.  If  he 
would  assist  me  to  escape,  it  could  have  no  other  effect  than 
to  disappoint  the  base  passions  of  my  conductors.  I  would 
upon  no  account  expose  him  to  any  real  inconvenience;  but 
I  was  well  assured  that  the  same  generosity  that  should 
prompt  him  to  a  good  deed,  would  enable  him  effectually 
to  vindicate  it  when  done;  and  that  those  who  detained  me, 
when  they  had  lost  sight  of  their  prey,  would  feel  covered 


3i2  ADVENTURES  OF 

with  confusion,  and  not  dare  to  take  another  step  in  the 
affair. 

The  old  man  listened  to  what  I  related  with  curiosity  and 
interest.  He  said  that  he  had  always  felt  an  abhorrence  to 
the  sort  of  people  who  had  me  in  their  hands;  that  he  had 
an  aversion  to  the  task  they  had  just  imposed  upon  him, 
but  that  he  could  not  refuse  some  little  disagreeable  offices 
to  oblige  his  daughter  and  son-in-law.  He  had  no  doubt, 
from  my  countenance  and  manner,  of  the  truth  of  what  I 
had  asserted  to  him.  It  was  an  extraordinary  request  I  had 
made,  and  he  did  not  know  what  had  induced  me  to  think 
him  the  sort  of  person  to  whom,  with  any  prospect  of  success, 
it  might  be  made.  In  reality,  however,  his  habits  of  think- 
ing were  uncommon,  and  he  felt  more  than  half-inclined  to 
act  as  I  desired.  One  thing  at  least  he  would  ask  of  me 
in  return,  which  was  to  be  faithfully  informed  in  some  de- 
gree respecting  the  person  he  was  desired  to  oblige.  What 
was  my  name? 

The  question  came  upon  me  unprepared.  But,  what- 
ever might  be  the  consequence,  I  could  not  bear  to  deceive 
the  person  by  whom  it  was  put,  and  in  the  circumstances 
under  which  it  was  put.  The  practice  of  perpetual  false- 
hood is  too  painful  a  task.  I  replied  that  my  name  was 
Williams. 

He  paused.  His  eye  was  fixed  upon  me.  I  saw  his  com- 
plexion alter  at  the  repetition  of  that  word.  He  proceeded 
with  visible  anxiety. 

My  Christian  name? 

Caleb. 

Good  God!  it  could  not  be  ?     He  conjured  me  by 

everything  that  was  sacred  to  answer  him  faithfully  to 
one  question  more.  I  was  not — no,  it  was  impossible — the 
person  who  had  formerly  lived  servant  with  Mr.  Falkland, 
of ? 

I  told  him  that,  whatever  might  be  the  meaning  of  his 
question  I  would  answer  him  truly.  I  was  the  individual 
he  mentioned. 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  313 

As  I  uttered  these  words  the  old  man  rose  from  his  seat. 
He  was  sorry  that  fortune  had  been  so  unpropitious  to  him, 
as  for  him  ever  to  have  set  eyes  upon  me !  I  was  a  monster 
with  whom  the  very  earth  groaned! 

I  entreated  that  he  would  suffer  me  to  explain  this  new 
misapprehension,  as  he  had  done  in  the  former  instance. 
I  had  no  doubt  that  I  should  do  it  equally  to  his  satisfac- 
tion. 

No!  no!  no!  he  would  upon  no  consideration  admit  that 
his  ears  should  suffer  such  contamination.  This  case  and 
the  other  were  very  different.  There  was  no  criminal  upon 
the  face  of  the  earth,  no  murderer,  half  so  detestable  as  the 
person  who  could  prevail  upon  himself  to  utter  the  charges 
I  had  done,  by  way  of  recrimination,  against  so  generous  a 
master. — The  old  man  was  in  a  perfect  agony  with  the  recol- 
lection. 

At  length  he  calmed  himself  enough  to  say,  he  should 
never  cease  to  grieve  that  he  had  held  a  moment's  parley 
with  me.  He  did  not  know  what  was  the  conduct  severe 
justice  required  of  him;  but,  since  he  had  come  into  the 
knowledge  of  who  I  was  only  by  my  own  confession,  it  was 
irreconcilably  repugnant  to  his  feelings  to  make  use  of 
that  knowledge  to  my  injury.  Here,  therefore,  ail  relation 
between  us  ceased;  as  indeed  it  would  be  an  abuse  of  words 
to  consider  me  in  the  light  of  a  human  creature.  He  would 
do  me  no  mischief;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  he  would  not, 
for  the  world,  be  in  any  way  assisting  and  abetting  me. 

I  was  inexpressibly  affected  at  the  abhorrence  this  good 
and  benevolent  creature  expressed  against  me.  I  could 
not  be  silent ;  I  endeavoured  once  and  again  to  prevail  upon 
him  to  hear  me.  But  his  determination  was  unalterable. 
Our  contest  lasted  for  some  time,  and  he  at  length  termi- 
nated it  by  ringing  the  bell,  and  calling  up  the  waiter.  A 
very  little  while  after  my  conductors  entered,  and  the  other 
persons  withdrew. 

It  was  a  part  of  the  singularity  of  my  fate  that  it  hur- 
ried me  from  one  species  of  anxiety  and  distress  to  another. 


314  ADVENTURES  OF 

too  rapidly  to  suffer  any  one  of  them  to  sink  deeply  into  my 
mind.  I  am  apt  to  believe,  in  the  retrospect,  that  half  the 
calamities  I  was  destined  to  endure  would  infallibly  have 
overwhelmed  and  destroyed  me.  But,  as  it  was,  I  had  no 
leisure  to  chew  the  cud  upon  misfortunes  as  they  befell  me, 
but  was  under  the  necessity  of  forgetting  them,  to  guard 
against  peril  that  the  next  moment  seemed  ready  to  crush 
me. 

The  behaviour  of  this  incomparable  and  amiable  old  man 
cut  me  to  the  heart.  It  was  a  dreadful  prognostic  for  all 
my  future  life.  But,  as  I  have  just  observed,  my  con- 
ductors entered,  and  another  subject  called  imperiously  upon 
my  attention.  I  could  have  been  content,  mortified  as  I 
was  at  this  instant,  to  have  been  shut  up  in  some  impene- 
trable solitude,  and  to  have  wrapped  myself  in  inconsolable 
misery.  But  the  grief  I  endured  had  not  such  power  over 
me  as  that  I  could  be  content  to  risk  the  being  led  to  the 
gallows.  The  love  of  life,  and  still  more  a  hatred  against 
oppression,  steeled  my  heart  against  that  species  of  inert- 
ness. In  the  scene  that  had  just  passed,  I  had  indulged,  as* 
I  have  said,  in  a  wantonness  and  luxury  of  refinement.  It 
was  time  that  indulgence  should  be  brought  to  a  period.  It 
was  dangerous  to  trifle  any  more  upon  the  brink  of  fate; 
and,  penetrated  as  I  was  with  sadness  by  the  result  of  my 
last  attempt,  I  was  little  disposed  to  unnecessary  circumam- 
bulation. 

I  was  exactly  in  the  temper  in  which  the  gentlemen  who 
had  me  in  their  power  would  have  desired  to  find  me.  Ac- 
cordingly we  entered  immediately  upon  business;  and, 
after  some  chaffering,  they  agreed  to  accept  eleven 
guineas  as  the  price  of  my  freedom.  To  preserve, 
however,  the  chariness  of  their  reputation,  they  insisted 
upon  conducting  me  with  them  for  a  few  miles  on  the  out- 
side of  a  stagecoach.  They  then  pretended  that  the  road 
they  had  to  travel  lay  in  a  cross-country  direction;  and, 
having  quitted  the  vehicle,  they  suffered  me,  almost  as  soon 
as  it  was  out  of  sight,  to  shake  off  this  troublesome  associa- 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  315 

tion,  and  follow  my  own  inclinations.  It  may  be  worth  re- 
marking, by  the  way,  that  these  fellows  outwitted  them- 
selves at  their  own  trade.  They  had  laid  hold  of  me  at 
first  under  the  idea  of  a  prize  of  a  hundred  guineas;  they 
had  since  been  glad  to  accept  a  composition  of  eleven:  but 
if  they  had  retained  me  a  little  longer  in  their  possession, 
they  would  have  found  the  possibility  of  acquiring  the  sum 
that  had  originally  excited  their  pursuit,  upon  a  different 
score. 

The  mischances  that  had  befallen  me,  in  my  late  attempt 
to  escape  from  my  pursuers  by  sea,  deterred  me  from  the 
thought  of  repeating  that  experiment.  I  therefore  once  more 
returned  to  the  suggestion  of  hiding  myself,  at  least  for  the 
present,  among  the  crowds  of  the  metropolis.  Meanwhile, 
I  by  no  means  thought  proper  to  venture  by  the  direct  route, 
and  the  less  so,  as  that  was  the  course  which  would  be 
steered  by  my  late  conductors;  but  took  my  road  along  the 
borders  of  Wales.  The  only  incident  worth  relating  in  this 
place  occurred  in  an  attempt  to  cross  the  Severn  in  a  par- 
ticular point.  The  mode  was  by  a  ferry;  but,  by  some 
strange  inadvertence,  I  lost  my  way  so  completely  as  to  be 
wholly  unable  that  night  to  reach  the  ferry,  and  arrive  at 
the  town  which  I  had  destined  for  my  repose. 

This  may  seem  a  petty  disappointment,  in  the  midst  of  the 
overwhelming  considerations  that  might  have  been  expected 
to  engross  every  thought  of  my  mind.  Yet  it  was  borne  by 
me  with  singular  impatience.  I  was  that  day  uncommonly 
fatigued.  Previously  to  the  time  that  I  mistook,  or  at  least 
was  aware  of  the  mistake  of  the  road,  the  sky  had  become 
black  and  lowering,  and  soon  after  the  clouds  burst  down  in 
sheets  of  rain.  I  was  in  the  midst  of  a  heath,  without  a 
tree  or  covering  of  any  sort  to  shelter  me.  I  was  thoroughly 
drenched  in  a  moment.  I  pushed  on  with  a  sort  of  sullen 
determination.  By-and-by  the  rain  gave  place  to  a  storm 
of  hail.  The  hailstones  were  large  and  frequent.  I  was  ill 
defended  by  the  miserable  covering  I  wore,  and  they  seemed 
to  cut  me  in  a  thousand  directions.    The  hail-storm  subsided 


■* 


316  ADVENTURES  OF 

and  was  again  succeeded  by  a  heavy  rain.  By  this  time  it 
was  that  I  had  perceived  I  was  wholly  out  of  my  road.  I 
could  discover  neither  man  nor  beast,  nor  habitation  of  any 
kind.  I  walked  on,  measuring  at  every  turn  the  path  it 
would  be  proper  to  pursue,  but  in  no  instance  finding  a 
sufficient  reason  to  reject  one  or  prefer  another.  My  mind 
was  bursting  with  depression  and  anguish.  I  muttered  im- 
precations and  murmuring  as  I  passed  along.  I  was  full 
of  loathing  and  abhorrence  of  life,  and  all  that  life  carries 
in  its  train.  After  wandering  without  any  certain  direction 
for  two  hours,  I  was  overtaken  by  the  night.  The  scene 
was  nearly  pathless,  and  it  was  vain  to  think  of  proceeding 
any  farther. 

Here  I  was,  without  comfort,  without  shelter,  and  with- 
out food.  There  was  not  a  particle  of  my  covering  that  was 
not  as  wet  as  if  it  had  been  fished  from  the  bottom  of  the 
ocean.  My  teeth  chattered.  I  trembled  in  every  limb. 
My  heart  burned  with  universal  fury.  At  one  moment  I 
stumbled  and  fell  over  some  unseen  obstacle;  at  another  I 
was  turned  back  by  an  impediment  I  could  not  overcome. 

There  was  no  strict  connexion  between  these  casual  in- 
conveniences and  the  persecution  under  which  I  laboured. 
But  my  distempered  thoughts  confounded  them  together. 
I  cursed  the  whole  system  of  human  existence.     I  said, 
''Here  I  am,  an  outcast,  destined  to  perish  with  hunger  and 
cold.     All  men  desert  me.    All  men  hate  me.    I  am  driven 
with  mortal  threats  from  the  sources  of  comfort  and  exist- 
ence.    Accursed  world!    that  hates  without  a  cause,  that 
'overwhelms  innocence  with  calamities  which  ought  to  be 
spared  even  to  guilt!     Accursed  world!  dead  to  every  manly 
'sympathy;  with  eyes  of  horn  and  hearts  of  steel!     Why  do 
I  consent  to  live  any  longer?     Why  do  I  seek  to  drag  on  an 
;  existence,  which,  if  protracted,  must  be  protracted  amid  the 
lairs  of  these  human  tigers?" 

This;  paroxysm  at  length  exhausted  itself.  Presently  after 
I  discovered  a  solitary  shed,  which  I  was  contented  to  re- 
sort to  for  shelter.     In  a  corner  of  the  shed  I  found  some 


; 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  317 

clean  straw.  I  threw  off  my  rags,  placed  them  in  a  situa- 
tion where  they  would  best  be  dried,  and  buried  myself  amid 
this  friendly  warmth.  Here  I  forgot  by  degrees  the  anguish 
that  had  racked  me.  A  wholesome  shed  and  fresh  straw 
may  seem  but  scanty  benefits;  but  they  offered  themselves 
when  least  expected,  and  my  whole  heart  was  lightened  by 
the  encounter.  Through  fatigue  of  mind  and  body,  it  hap- 
pened in  this  instance,  though  in  general  my  repose  was  re- 
markably short,  that  I  slept  till  almost  noon  of  the  next  day. 
When  I  rose,  I  found  that  I  was  at  no  great  distance  from 
the  ferry,  which  I  crossed,  and  entered  the  town  where  I  in- 
tended to  have  rested  the  preceding  night. 

It  was  market-day.  As  I  passed  near  the  cross,  I  ob- 
served two  people  look  at  me  with  great  earnestness:  after 
which  one  of  them  exclaimed,  "I  will  be  damned  if  I  do 
not  think  that  this  is  the  very  fellow  those  men  were  in- 
quiring for  who  set  off  an  hour  ago  by  the  coach  for ." 

I  was  extremely  alarmed  at  this  information;  and,  quicken- 
ing my  pace,  turned  sharp  down  a  narrow  lane.  The  mo- 
ment I  was  out  of  sight  I  ran  with  all  the  speed  I  could 
exert,  and  did  not  think  myself  safe  till  I  was  several  miles 
distant  from  the  place  where  this  information  had  reached 
my  ears.  I  have  always  believed  that  the  men  to  whom  it 
related  were  the  very  persons  who  had  apprehended  me  on 
board  the  ship  in  which  I  had  embarked  for  Ireland;  that 
by  some  accident  they  had  met  with  the  description  of  my 
person  as  published  on  the  part  of  Mr.  Falkland;  and  that, 
from  putting  together  the  circumstances,  they  had  been  led 
to  believe  that  this  was  the  very  individual  who  had  lately 
been  in  their  custody.  Indeed,  it  was  a  piece  of  infatuation 
in  me,  for  which  I  am  now  unable  to  account,  that,  after 
the  various  indications  which  had  occurred  in  that  affair, 
proving  to  them  that  I  was  a  man  in  critical  and  peculiar 
circumstances,  I  should  have  persisted  in  wearing  the  same 
disguise  without  the  smallest  alteration.  My  escape  in  the 
present  case  was  eminently  fortunate.  If  I  had  not  lost 
my  way  in  consequence  of  the  hail-storm  on  the  preceding 


318  CALEB  WILLIAMS 

night,  or  if  I  had  not  so  greatly  overslept  myself  this  very 
morning,  I  must  almost  infallibly  have  fallen  into  the  hands 
of  these  infernal  blood-hunters. 

The  town  they  had  chosen  for  their  next  stage,  the  name 
of  which  I  had  thus  caught  in  the  market-place,  was  the 
town  to  which,  but  for  this  intimation,  I  should  have  im- 
mediately proceeded.  As  it  was,  I  determined  to  take  a 
road  as  wide  of  it  as  possible.  In  the  first  place  to  which 
I  came,  in  which  it  was  practicable  to  do  so,  I  bought  a 
great-coat,  which  I  drew  over  my  beggar's  weeds,  arid  a  bet- 
ter hat.  The  hat  I  slouched  over  my  face,  and  covered  one 
of  my  eyes  with  a  green  silk  shade.  The  handkerchief, 
which  I  had  hitherto  worn  about  my  head,  I  now  tied 
about  the  lower  part  of  my  visage,  so  as  to  cover  my  mouth. 
By  degrees  I  discarded  every  part  of  my  former  dress,  and 
wore  for  my  upper  garment  a  kind  of  carman's  frock,  which, 
being  of  the  better  sort,  made  me  look  like  the  son  of  a  repu- 
table farmer  of  the  lower  class.  Thus  equipped,  I  proceeded 
on  my  journey,  and  after  a  thousand  alarms,  precautions, 
and  circuitous  deviations  from  the  direct  path,  arrived  safely 
in  London. 


CHAPTER  THIRTY-FOUR 

HERE  then  was  the  termination  of  an  immense  series 
of  labours,  upon  which  no  man  could  have  looked 
back  without  astonishment,  or  forward  without  a 
sentiment  bordering  on  despair.  It  was  at  a  price  which 
defies  estimation  that  I  had  purchased  this  resting-place; 
whether  we  consider  the  efforts  it  had  cost  me  to  escape 
from  the  walls  of  my  prison,  or  the  dangers  and  anxieties  to 
which  I  had  been  a  prey  from  that  hour  to  the  present. 

But  why  do  I  call  the  point  at  which  I  was  now  arrived 
a  resting-place?  Alas,  it  was  diametrically  the  reverse! 
It  was  my  first  and  immediate  business  to  review  all  the 
projects  of  disguise  I  had  hitherto  conceived,  to  derive  every 
improvement  I  could  invent  from  the  practice  to  which  I 
had  been  subjected,  and  to  manufacture  a  veil  of  conceal- 
ment more  impenetrable  than  ever.  This  was  an  effort  to 
which  I  could  see  no  end.  In  ordinary  cases  the  hue  and  cry 
after  a  supposed  offender  is  a  matter  of  temporary  opera- 
tion; but  ordinary  cases  formed  no  standard  for  the  colos- 
sal  intelligence  of  Mr.  Falkland.  For  the  same  reason, 
London,  which  appears  an  inexhaustible  reservoir  of  con- 
cealment to  the  majority  of  mankind,  brought  no 
such  consolatory  sentiment  to  my  mind.  Whether 
life  were  worth  accepting  on  such  terms  I  cannot  pro- 
nounce. I  only  know  that  I  persisted  in  this  exertion 
of  my  faculties  through  a  sort  of  parental  love  that  men  are 
accustomed  to  entertain  for  their  intellectual  offspring;  the 
more  thought  I  had  expended  in  rearing  it  to  its  present  per- 
fection, the  less  did  I  find  myself  disposed  to  abandon  it. 
Another  motive,  not  less  strenuously  exciting  me  to  perse- 
verance, was  the  ever-growing  repugnance  I  felt  to  injustice 
and  arbitrary  power. 

3i9 


320  ADVENTURES  OF 

The  first  evening  of  my  arrival  in  town  I  slept  at  an  ob- 
scure inn  in  the  borough  of  Southwark,  choosing  that  side  of 
the  metropolis  on  account  of  its  lying  entirely  wide  of  the 
part  of  England  from  which  I  came.  I  entered  the  inn  in 
the  evening  in  my  countryman's  frock;  and,  having  paid  for 
my  lodging  before  I  went  to  bed,  equipped  myself  next  morn- 
ing as  differently  as  my  wardrobe  would  allow,  and  left  the 
house  before  day.  The  frock  I  made  up  into  a  small 
packet,  and,  having  carried  it  to  a  distance  as  great  as  I 
thought  necessary,  I  dropped  it  in  the  corner  of  an  alley 
through  which  I  passed.  My  next  care  was  to  furnish  my- 
self with  another  suit  of  apparel,  totally  different  from  any 
to  which  I  had  hitherto  had  recourse.  The  exterior  which 
I  was  now  induced  to  assume  was  that  of  a  Jew.     One  of 

the  gang  of  thieves  upon forests,  had  beeffof  that  race; 

and  by  the  talent  of  mimicry,  which  I  have  already  stated 
myself  to  possess,  I  could  copy  their  pronunciation  of  the 
English  language,  sufficiently  to  answer  such  occasions  as 
were  likely  to  present  themselves.  One  of  the  preliminaries 
I  adopted  was,  to  repair  to  a  quarter  of  the  town  in  which 
great  numbers  of  this  people  reside,  and  study  their  complex- 
ion and  countenance.  Having  made  such  provision  as  my 
prudence  suggested  to  me,  I  retired  for  that  night  to  an  inn 
in  the  midway  between  Mile-end  and  Wapping.  Here  I 
accoutred  myself  in  my  new  habiliments;  and,  having  em- 
ployed the  same  precautions  as  before,  retired  from  my 
lodging  at  a  time  least  exposed  to  observation.  It  is  un- 
necessary to  describe  the  particulars  of  my  new  equipage; 
suffice  it  to  say,  that  one  of  my  cares  was  to  discolour  my 
complexion,  and  give  it  the  dun  and  sallow  hue  which  is  in 
most  instances  characteristic  of  the  tribe  to  which  I  as- 
sumed to  belong;  and  that  when  my  metamorphosis  was  fin- 
ished, I  could  not,  upon  the  strictest  examination,  conceive 
that  any  one  could  have  traced  out  the  person  of  Caleb 
Williams  in  this  new  disguise. 

Thus  far  advanced  in  the  execution  of  my  project,  I 
deemed  it  advisable  to  procure  a  lodging,  and  change  my 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  321 

late  wandering  life  for  a  stationary  one.  In  this  lodging  I 
constantly  secluded  myself  from  the  rising  to  the  setting  of 
the  sun:  the  periods  I  allowed  for  exercise  and  air  were 
few,  and  those  few  by  night.  I  was  even  cautious  of  so 
much  as  approaching  the  window  of  my  apartment,  though 
upon  the  attic  story;  a  principle  I  laid  down  to  myself  was, 
not  wantonly  and  unnecessarily  to  expose  myself  to  risk, 
however  slight  that  risk  might  appear. 

Here  let  me  pause  for  a  moment,  to  bring  before  the 
reader,  in  the  way  in  which  it  was  impressed  upon  my  mind, 
the  nature  of  my  situation.  I  was  born  free:  I  was  born 
healthy,  vigorous,  and  active,  complete  in  all  the  lineaments 
and  members  of  a  human  body.  I  was  not  born  indeed  to 
the  possession  of  hereditary  wealth:  but  I  had  a  better  in- 
heritance, an  enterprising  mind,  an  inquisitive  spirit,  a  lib- 
eral ambition.  In  a  word,  I  accepted  my  lot  with  willing- 
ness and  content;  I  did  not  fear  but  I  should  make  my  cause 
good  in  the  lists  of  existence.  I  was  satisfied  to  aim  at 
small  things:  I  was  pleased  to  play  at  first  for  a  slender 
stake:  I  was  more  willing  to  grow  than  to  descend  in  my 
individual  significance. 

The  free  spirit  and  the  firm  heart  with  which  I  com- 
menced, one  circumstance  was  sufficient  to  blast.  I  was 
ignorant  of  the  power  which  the  institutions  of  society  give 
to  one  man  over  others:  I  had  fallen  unwarily  into  the 
hands  of  a  person  who  held  it  as  his  fondest  wish  to  oppress 
and  destroy  me. 

I  found  myself  subjected,  undeservedly  on  my  part,  to 
all  the  disadvantages  which  mankind,  if  they  reflected  upon 
them,  would  hesitate  to  impose  on  acknowledged  guilt. 
In  even'  human  countenance  I  feared  to  find  the  counte- 
nance of  an  enemy.  I  shrunk  from  the  vigilance  of  every 
human  eye.  I  dared  not  open  my  heart  to  the  best  af- 
fections of  our  nature.  I  was  shut  up,  a  deserted,  solitary 
wretch,  in  the  midst  of  my  species.  I  dared  not  look  for 
the  consolations  of  friendship:  but.  instead  of  seeking  to 
identify  myself  with  the  joys  and  sorrows  of  others,  and  ex- 


4 


322  ADVENTURES  OF 

changing  the  delicious  gifts  of  confidence  and  sympathy, 
was  compelled  to  centre  my  thoughts  and  my  vigilance  in 
myself.  My  life  was  all  a  lie.  I  had  a  counterfeit  character 
to  support.  I  had  counterfeit  manners  to  assume.  My 
gait,  my  gestures,  my  accents,  were  all  of  them  to  be  studied. 
I  was  not  free  to  indulge,  no,  not  one  honest  sally  of  the 
soul.  Attended  with  these  disadvantages,  I  was  to  procure 
myself  a  subsistence — a  subsistence  to  be  acquired  with  in- 
finite precautions,  and  to  be  consumed  without  the  hope  of 
enjoyment. 

This,  even  this,  I  was  determined  to  endure;  to  put  my 
shoulder  to  the  burthen,  and  support  it  with  unshrinking 
firmness.  Let  it  not,  however,  be  supposed  that  I  endured 
it  without  repining  and  abhorrence.  My  time  was  divided 
between  the  terrors  of  an  animal  that  skulks  from  its  pur- 
suers, the  obstinacy  of  unshrinking  firmness,  and  the  elastic 
revulsion  that  from  time  to  time  seems  to  shrivel  the  very 
hearts  of  the  miserable.  If  at  some  moments  I  fiercely  de- 
fied all  the  rigours  of  my  fate,  at  others,  and  those  of  fre- 
quent recurrence.  I  sunk  into  helpless  despondence.  I  looked 
forward  without  hope  through  the  series  of  my  existence, 
tears  of  anguish  rushed  from  my  eyes,  my  courage  became 
extinct,  and  I  cursed  the  conscious  life  that  was  reproduced 
with  every  returning  day. 

"Why,"  upon  such  occasions  I  was  accustomed  to  ex- 
claim, "why  am  I  overwhelmed  with  the  load  of  existence? 
Why  are  all  these  engines  at  work  to  torment  me?  I  am  no 
murderer;  yet,  if  I  were,  what  worse  could  I  be  fated 
to  suffer?  How  vile,  squalid,  and  disgraceful  is  the 
state  to  which  I  am  condemned!  This  is  not  my  place  in 
the  role  of  existence,  the  place  for  which  either  my  temper 
or  my  understanding  has  prepared  me!  To  what  purpose 
serve  the  restless  aspirations  of  my  soul,  but  to  make  me, 
like  a  frighted  bird,  beat  myself  in  vain  against  the  enclosure 
of  my  cage?  Nature,  barbarous  nature!  to  me  thou  hast 
proved  indeed  the  worst  of  step-mothers;  endowed  me  with 
wishes  insatiate,  and  sunk  me  in  never-ending  degradation!" 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  323 

I  might  have  thought  myself  more  secure  if  I  had  been  in 
possession  of  money  upon  which  to  subsist.  The  necessity 
of  earning  for  myself  the  means  of  existence,  evidently 
tended  to  thwart  the  plan  of  secrecy  to  which  I  was  con- 
demned. Whatever  labour  I  adopted,  or  deemed  myself 
qualified  to  discharge,  it  was  first  to  be  considered  how  I 
was  to  be  provided  with  employment,  and  where  I  was  to 
find  an  employer  or  purchaser  for  my  commodities.  In  the 
meantime  I  had  no  alternative.  The  little  money  with 
which  I  had  escaped  from  the  blood-hunters  was  almost  ex- 
pended. 

After  the  minutest  consideration  I  was  able  to  bestow 
upon  this  question,  I  determined  that  literature  should  be 
the  field  of  my  first  experiment.  I  had  read  of  money 
being  acquired  in  this  way,  and  of  prices  given  by  the  specu- 
lators in  this  sort  of  ware  to  its  proper  manufacturers.  My 
qualifications  I  esteemed  at  a  slender  valuation.  I  was  not 
without  a  conviction  that  experience  and  practice  must  pave 
the  way  to  excellent  production.  But  though  of  these  I  was 
utterly  destitute,  my  propensities  had  always  led  me  in 
this  direction;  and  my  early  thirst  of  knowledge  had  con- 
ducted me  to  a  more  intimate  acquaintance  with  books  than 
could  perhaps  have  been  expected  under  my  circumstances. 
If  my  literary  pretensions  were  slight,  the  demand  I  intended 
to  make  upon  them  was  not  great.  All  I  asked  was  a  sub- 
sistence; and  I  was  persuaded  few  persons  could  subsist 
upon  slenderer  means  than  myself.  I  also  considered  this 
as  temporary  expedient,  and  hoped  that  accident  or  time 
might  hereafter  place  me  in  a  less  precarious  situation. 
The  reasons  that  principally  determined  my  choice  were, 
that  this  employment  called  upon  me  for  the  least  prepara- 
tion, and  could,  as  I  thought,  be  exercised  with  least  obser- 
vation. 

There  was  a  solitary  woman,  of  middle  age,  who  tenanted 
a  chamber  in  this  house,  upon  the  same  floor  with  my  own. 
I  had  no  sooner  determined  upon  the  destination  of  my 
industry  than  I  cast  my  eye  upon  her  as  the  possible  instru- 


324  ADVENTURES  OF 

ment  for  disposing  of  my  productions.  Excluded  as  I  was 
from  all  intercourse  with  my  species  in  general,  I  found 
pleasure  in  the  occasional  exchange  ot  a  few  words  with 
this  inoffensive  and  good-humoured  creature,  who  was  al- 
ready of  an  age  to  preclude  scandal.  She  lived  upon  a  very 
small  annuity,  allowed  her  by  a  distant  relation,  a  woman 
of  quality,  who,  possessed  of  thousands  herself,  had  no 
other  anxiety  with  respect  to  this  person  than  that  she 
should  not  contaminate  her  alliance  by  the  exertion  of  honest 
industry.  This  humble  creature  was  of  a  uniformly  cheer- 
ful and  active  disposition,  unacquainted  alike  with  the  cares 
of  wealth  and  the  pressure  of  misfortune.  Though  her  pre- 
tensions were  small,  and  her  information  slender,  she  was 
by  no  means  deficient  in  penetration.  She  remarked  the 
faults  and  follies  of  mankind  with  no  contemptible  dis- 
cernment; but  her  temper  was  of  so  mild  and  forgiving  a 
cast,  as  would  have  induced  most  persons  to  believe  that 
she  perceived  nothing  of  the  matter.  Her  heart  overflowed 
with  the  milk  of  kindness.  She  was  sincere  and  ardent  in 
her  attachments,  and  never  did  she  omit  a  service  which 
she  perceived  herself  able  to  render  to  a  human  being. 

Had  it  not  been  for  these  qualifications  of  temper,  I 
should  probably  have  found  that  my  appearance,  that  of 
a  deserted,  solitary  lad,  of  Jewish  extraction,  effectually 
precluded  my  demands  upon  her  kindness.  But  I  speedily 
perceived,  from  her  manner  of  receiving  and  returning 
civilities  of  an  indifferent  sort,  that  her  heart  was  too  noble 
to  have  its  effusions  checked  by  any  base  and  unworthy 
considerations.  Encouraged  by  these  preliminaries,  I  deter- 
mined to  select  her  as  my  agent.  I  found  her  willing  and 
alert  in  the  business  I  proposed  to  her.  That  I  might  antici- 
pate occasions  of  suspicion,  I  frankly  told  her  that,  for 
reasons  which  I  wished  to  be  excused  from  relating,  but 
which,  if  related,  I  was  sure  would  not  deprive  me  of  her 
good  opinion,  I  found  it  necessary,  for  the  present,  to  keep 
myself  private.    With  this  statement  she  readily  acquiesced, 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  325 

and  told  me  that  she  had  no  desire  for  any  further  informa- 
tion than  I  found  it  expedient  to  give. 

My  first  productions  were  of  the  poetical  kind.  After 
having  finished  two  or  three,  I  directed  this  generous  crea- 
ture to  take  them  to  the  office  of  a  newspaper;  but  they 
were  rejected  with  contempt  by  the  Aristarchus  of  that 
place,  who,  having  bestowed  on  them  a  superficial  glance, 
told  her  that  such  matters  were  not  in  his  way.  I  cannot 
help  mentioning  in  this  place,  that  the  countenance  of  Mrs. 

arney  (this  was  the  name  of  my  ambassadress)  was  in 
alPcSses^a  perfect  indication  of  her  success,  and  rendered 
explanation  by  words  wholly  unnecessary.  She  interested 
herself  so  unreservedly  in  what  she  undertook,  that  she  felt 
either  miscarriage  or  good  fortune  much  more  exquisitely 
than  I  did.  I  had  an  unhesitating  confidence  in  my  own 
resources,  and,  occupied  as  I  was  in  meditations  more 
interesting  and  more  painful,  I  regarded  these  matters  as 
altogether  trivial. 

I  quietly  took  the  pieces  back,  and  laid  them  upon  my 
table.  L'pon  revisal,  I  altered  and  transcribed  one  of  them, 
and,  joining  it  with  two  ethers,  despatched  them  together 
to  the  editor  of  a  magazine.  He  desired  they  might  be  left 
with  him  till  the  day  after  to-morrow.  When  that  day 
came  he  told  my  friend  that  they  should  be  inserted;  but 
Mrs.  Marney  asking  respecting  the  price,  he  replied,  it 
was  their  constant  rule  to  give  nothing  for  poetical  com- 
positions, the  letter-box  being  always  full  of  writings  of  that 
sort;  but  if  the  gentleman  would  try  his  hand  in  prose,  a 
short  essay  or  a  tale,  he  would  see  what  he  could  do  for 
him. 

With  the  requisition  of  my  literary  dictator  I  immedi- 
ately complied.  I  attempted  a  paper  in  the  style  of  Ad- 
dison's Spectators,  which  was  accepted.  In  a  short  time 
I  was  upon  an  established  footing  in  this  quarter.  I  how- 
ever  distrusted   my   resources   in   the  way  of  moral   dis- 


quisition, and  soon  turned  my  thoughts  to  his  other  sug- 


326  CALEB  WILLIAMS 

gestion,  a  tale.  His  demands  upon  me  were  now  frequent, 
and  to  facilitate  my  labours  I  bethought  myself  of  the  re- 
source of  translation.  I  had  scarcely  any  convenience  with 
respect  to  the  procuring  of  books;  but  as  my  memory  was 
retentive,  I  frequently  translated  or  modelled  my  narrative 
upon  a  reading  of  some  years  before.  By  a  fatality,  for 
which  I  did  not  exactly  know  how  to  account,  my  thoughts 
frequently  led  me  to  the  histories  of  celebrated  robbers:  and 
I  related,  from  time  to  time,  incidents  and  anecdotes  of 

1  Cartouche,  Gusman  d'Alfarache,  and  other  memorable 
worthies,  whose  career  was  terminated  upon  the  gallows  or 
the  scaffold. 

In  the  meantime  a  retrospect  to  my  own  situation  ren- 
dered a  perseverance  even  in  this  industry  difficult  to  be 
maintained.  I  often  threw  down  my  pen  in  an  ecstasy  of 
despair.  Sometimes  for  whole  days  together  I  was  inca- 
pable of  action,  and  sunk  into  a  sort  of  partial  stupor,  too 
wretched  to  be  described.  Youth  and  health  however  en- 
abled me,  from  time  to  time,  to  get  the  better  of  my  de- 
jection, and  to  rouse  myself  to  something  like  a  gayety, 
which,  if  it  had  been  permanent,  might  have  made  this 
interval  of  my  story  tolerable  to  my  reflections. 


CHAPTER  THIRTY-FIVE 

WHILE  I  was  thus  endeavouring  to  occupy  and  pro- 
vide for  the  intermediate  period,  till  the  violence 
of  the  pursuit  after  me  might  be  abated,  a  new 
source  of  danger  opened  upon  me  of  which  I  had  no  pre- 
vious suspicion. 

J^ines^  the  thief  who  had  been  expelled  from  Captain 
Raymond's  gang,  had  fluctuated,  during  the  last  years  of 
his  life,  between  the  two  professions  of  a  violator  of  the 
laws  and  a  retainer  to  their  administration.  He  had  origi- 
nally devoted  himself  to  the  first;  and  probably  his  initia- 
tion in  the  mysteries  of  thieving  qualified  him  to  be  pecul- 
iarly expert  in  the  profession  of  a  thief-taker — a  profession 
he  had  adopted,  not  from  choice,  but  necessity.  In  this  em- 
ployment his  reputation  was  great,  though  perhaps  not 
equal  to  his  merits ;  for  it  happens  here,  as  in  other  depart- 
ments of  human  society,  that,  however  the  subalterns  may 
furnish  wisdom  and  skill,  the  principals  exclusively  possess 
the  eclat.  He  was  exercising  this  art  in  a  very  prosperous 
manner,  when  it  happened,  by  some  accident,  that  one  or 
two  of  his  achievements  previous  to  his  having  shaken  off 
the  dregs  of  unlicensed  depredation  were  in  danger  of  be- 
coming subjects  of  public  attention.  Having  had  repeated 
intimations  of  this,  he  thought  it  prudent  to  decamp;  and 
it  was  during  this  period  of  his  retreat  that  he  entered  into 

the gang. 

Such  was  the  history  of  this  man  antecedently  to  his 
being  placed  in  the  situation  in  which  I  had  first  encountered 
him.  At  the  time  of  that  encounter  he  was  a  veteran  of 
Captain  Raymond's  gang;  for  thieves  being  a  short-lived 
race,  the  character  of  veteran  costs  the  less  time  in  ac- 

327 


328  ADVENTURES  OF 

quiring.  Upon  his  expulsion  from  this  community  he  re- 
turned once  more  to  his  lawful  profession,  and  by  his  old 
comrades  was  received  with  congratulation  as  a  lost  sheep. 
In  the  vulgar  classes  of  society  no  length  of  time  is  suf- 
ficient to  expiate  a  crime;  but  among  the  honourable  fra- 
ternity of  thief-takers  it  is  a  rule  never  to  bring  one  of  their 
own  brethren  to  a  reckoning  when  it  can  with  any  decency 
be  avoided.  They  are  probably  reluctant  to  fix  an  un- 
necessary stain  upon  the  ermine  of  their  profession.  An- 
other rule  observed  by  those  who  have  passed  through  the 
same  gradation  as  Gines  had  done,  and  which  was  adopted 
by  Gines  himself,  is  always  to  reserve  such  as  have  been  the 
accomplices  of  their  depredations  to  the  last,  and  on  no 
account  to  assail  them  without  great  necessity  or  power- 
ful temptation.  For  this  reason,  according  to  Gines's  sys- 
tem of  tactics,  Captain  Raymond  and  his  confederates  were, 
as  he  would  have  termed  it,  safe  from  his  retaliation. 

But  though  Gines  was,  in  this  sense  of  the  term,  a  man  of 
strict  honour,  my  case  unfortunately  did  not  fall  within 
the  laws  of  honour  he  acknowledged.  Misfortune  had  over- 
taken me,  and  I  was  on  all  sides  without  protection  or 
shelter.  The  persecution  to  which  I  was  exposed  was 
founded  upon  the  supposition  of  my  having  committed  fel- 
ony to  an  immense  amount.  But  in  this  Gines  had  had  no 
participation;  he  was  careless  whether  the  supposition  were 
true  or  false,  and  hated  me  as  much  as  if  my  innocence  had 
been  established  beyond  the  reach  of  suspicion. 

The  blood-hunters  who  had  taken  me  into  custody  at 

,  related,  as  usual  among  their  fraternity,  a  part  of 

their  adventure,  and  told  of  the  reason  which  inclined  them 
to  suppose  that  the  individual  who  had  passed  through 
their  custody  was  the  very  Caleb  Williams  for  whose  ap- 
prehension a  reward  had  been  offered  of  a  hundred  guineas. 
Gines,  whose  acuteness  was  eminent  in  the  way  of  his  pro- 
fession, by  comparing  facts  and  dates,  was  induced  to  sus- 
pect in  his  own  mind  that  Caleb  Williams  was  the  person 
he  had  hustled  and  wounded  upon  forest.     Against 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  329 

that  person  he  entertained  the  bitterest  aversion.  I  had 
been  the  innocent  cccasion  of  his  being  expelled  with  dis- 
grace from  Captain  Raymond's  gang;  and  Gines,  as  I  after- 
ward understood,  was  intimately  persuaded  that  there  was 
no  comparison  between  the  liberal  and  manly  profession 
of  a  robber  from  which  I  had  driven  him,  and  the  sordid  and 
mechanical  occupation  of  a  blood-hunter,  to  which  he  was 
obliged  to  return.  He  no  sooner  received  the  information 
I  have  mentioned  than  he  vowed  revenge.  He  determined 
to  leave  all  other  objects,  and  consecrate  every  faculty  of 
his  mind  to  the  unkennelling  me  from  my  hiding-place. 
The  offered  reward,  which  his  vanity  made  him  consider  as 
assuredly  his  own,  appeared  as  the  complete  indemnification 
of  his  labour  and  expense.  Thus  I  had  to  encounter  the 
sagacity  he  possessed  in  the  way  of  his  profession,  whetted 
and  stimulated  by  a  sentiment  of  vengeance,  in  a  mind 
that  knew  no  restraint  from  conscience  or  humanity. 

When  I  drew  to  myself  a  picture  of  my  situation  soon 
after  having  fixed  on  my  present  abode,  I  foolishly  thought, 
as  the  unhappy  are  accustomed  to  do,  that  my  calamity 
would  admit  of  no  aggravation.  The  aggravation  which, 
unknown  to  me,  at  this  time  occurred  was  the  most  fearful 
that  any  imagination  could  have  devised.  Nothing  could 
have  happened  more  critically  hostile  to  my  future  peace 

than  my  fatal  encounter  with  Gines  upon forest.     By 

this  means,  as  it  now  appears,  I  had  fastened  upon  myself  a 
second  enemy,  of  that  singular  and  dreadful  sort  that  is 
determined  never  to  dismiss  its  animosity  as  long  as  life 
shall  endure.  While  Falkland  was  the  hungry  lion  whose 
roarings  astonished  and  appalled  me,  Gines  was  a  noxious 
insect,  scarcely  less  formidable  and  tremendous,  that  hov- 
ered about  my  goings,  and  perpetually  menaced  me  with  the 
poison  of  his  sting. 

The  first  step  pursued  by  him  in  execution  of  his  project 
was  to  set  out  for  the  seaport  town  where  I  had  formerly 
been  apprehended.  From  thence  he  traced  me  to  the  banks 
of  the  Severn,  and  from  the  banks  of  the  Severn  to  London. 


330  ADVENTURES  OF 

It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  observe  that  this  is  always  prac- 
ticable, provided  the  pursuer  have  mcdves  strong  enough 
to  excite  him  to  perseverance,  unless  the  precautions  of  the 
fugitive  be,  in  the  highest  degree,  both  judicious  in  the  con- 
ception, and  fortunate  in  the  execution.  Gines  indeed,  in 
the  course  of  his  pursuit,  was  often  obliged  to  double  his 
steps;  and,  like  the  harrier,  whenever  he  was  at  fault,  re- 
turn to  the  place  where  he  had  last  perceived  the  scent  of  the 
animal  whose  death  he  had  decreed.  He  spared  neither 
pains  nor  time  in  the  gratification  of  the  passion  which 
choice  had  made  his  ruling  one. 

Upon  my  arrival  in  town  he  for  a  moment  lost  all  trace 
of  me,  London  being  a  place  in  which,  on  account  of  the 
magnitude  of  its  dimensions,  it  might  well  be  supposed  that 
an  individual  could  remain  hidden  and  unknown.  But  no 
difficulty  could  discourage  this  new  adversary.  He  went 
from  inn  to  inn  (reasonably  supposing  that  there  was  no 
private  house  to  which  I  could  immediately  repair),  till  he 
found,  by  the  description  he  gave,  and  the  recollections  he 
excited,  that  I  had  slept  for  one  night  in  the  borough  of 
Southwark.  But  he  could  get  no  further  information.  The 
people  of  the  inn  had  no  knowledge  what  had  become  of  me 
the  next  morning. 

This,  however,  did  but  render  him  more  eager  in  the  pur- 
suit. The  describing  me  was  now  more  difficult,  on  ac- 
count of  the  partial  change  of  dress  I  had  made  the  second 
day  of  my  being  in  town.  But  Gines  at  length  overcame 
the  obstacle  from  that  quarter. 

Having  traced  me  to  my  second  inn,  he  was  here  fur- 
nished with  a  more  copious  information.  I  had  been  a  sub- 
ject of  speculation  for  the  leisure  hours  of  some  of  the  per- 
sons belonging  to  this  inn.  An  old  woman,  of  a  most  curi- 
ous and  loquacious  disposition,  who  lived  opposite  to  it, 
and  who  that  morning  rose  early  to  her  washing,  had  espied 
me  from  her  window,  by  the  light  of  a  large  lamp  which 
hung  over  the  inn,  as  I  issued  from  the  gate.  She  had 
but  a  very  imperfect  view  of  me,  but  she  thought  there  was 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  331 

something  Jewish  in  my  appearance.  She  was  accustomed 
to  hold  a  conference  every  morning  with  the  landlady  of 
the  inn,  some  of  the  waiters  and  chambermaids  occasionally 
assisting  at  it.  In  the  course  of  the  dialogue  of  this  morn- 
ing, she  asked  some  questions  about  the  Jew  who  had  slept 
there  the  night  before.  No  Jew  had  slept  there.  The 
curiosity  of  the  landlady  was  excited  in  her  turn.  By  the 
time  of  the  morning  it  could  be  no  other  but  me.  It  was 
very  strange!  They  compared  notes  respecting  my  appear- 
ance and  dress.  No  two  things  could  be  more  dissimilar. 
The  Jew  Christian,  upon  any  dearth  of  subjects  of  intelli- 
gence, repeatedly  furnished  matter  for  their  discourse. 

The  information  thus  afforded  to  Gines  appeared  exceed- 
ingly material.  But  the  performance  did  not  for  some 
time  keep  pace  with  the  promise.  He  could  not  enter  every 
private  house  into  which  lodgers  were  ever  admitted,  in  the 
same  manner  that  he  had  treated  the  inns.  He  walked  the 
streets,  and  examined  with  a  curious  and  inquisitive  eye  the 
countenance  of  every  Jew  about  my  stature;  but  in  vain. 
He  repaired  to  Duke's  Place  and  the  synagogues.  It  was 
not  here  that  in  reality  he  could  calculate  upon  finding  me; 
but  he  resorted  to  those  means  in  despair,  and  as  a  last  hope. 
He  was  more  than  once  upon  the  point  of  giving  up  the  pur- 
suit; but  he  was  recalled  to  it  by  an  insatiable  and  restless 
appetite  for  revenge. 

It  was  during  this  perturbed  and  fluctuating  state  of  his 
mind  that  he  chanced  to  pay  a  visit  to  a  brother  of  his, 
who  was  the  head- workman  of  a  printing-office.  There 
was  little  intercourse  between  these  two  persons,  their  dis- 
positions and  habits  of  life  being  extremely  dissimilar.  The 
printer  was  industrious,  sober,  inclined  to  Methodism,  and 
of  a  propensity  to  accumulation.  He  was  extremely  dis- 
satisfied with  the  character  and  pursuit  of  his  brother,  and 
had  made  some  ineffectual  attempts  to  reclaim  him.  But 
though  they  by  no  means  agreed  in  their  habits  of  thinking, 
they  sometimes  saw  each  other.  Gines  loved  to  boast  of  as 
many  of  his  achievements  as  he  dared  venture  to  mention; 


332  ADVENTURES  OF 

and  his  brother  was  one  more  hearer  in  addition  to  the  set 
of  his  usual  associates.  The  printer  was  amused  with  the 
blunt  sagacity  of  remark  and  novelty  of  incident  that  char- 
acterized Gine's  conversation.  He  was  secretly  pleased,  in 
spite  of  all  his  sober  and  church-going  prejudices,  that  he 
was  brother  to  a  man  of  so  much  ingenuity  and  fortitude. 

After  having  listened  for  some  time  upon  this  occasion 
to  the  wonderful  stories  which  Gines,  in  his  rugged  way, 
condescended  to  tell,  the  printer  felt  an  ambition  to  en- 
tertain his  brother  in  his  turn.  He  began  to  retail  some  of 
my  stories  of  Cartouche  and  Gusman  d'Alfarache.  The  at- 
tention of  Gines  was  excited.  His  first  emotion  was  won- 
der; his  second  was  envy  and  aversion.  Where  did  the 
printer  get  these  stories?  This  question  was  answered,  "I 
will  tell  you  what,"  said  the  printer,  "we  none  of  us  know 
what  to  make  of  the  writer  of  these  articles.  He  writes 
poetry,  and  morality,  and  history:  I  am  a  printer,  and  cor- 
rector of  the  press,  and  may  pretend  without  vanity  to  be  a 
tolerably  good  judge  of  these  matters:  he  writes  them  all, 
to  my  mind,  extremely  fine;  and  yet  he  is  no  more  than  a 
Jew."  [To  my  honest  printer  this  seemed  as  strange  as 
if  they  had  been  written  by  a  Cherokee  chieftain  at  the 
falls  of  the  Mississippi.] 

"A  Jew!     How  do  you  know?     Did  you  ever  see  him?" 

"No;  the  matter  is  always  brought  to  us  by  a  woman. 
But  my  master  hates  mysteries;  he  likes  to  see  his  authors 
himself.  So  he  plagues  and  plagues  the  old  woman;  but  he 
can  never  get  anything  out  of  her,  except  that  one  day  she 
happened  to  drop  that  the  young  gentleman  was  a  Jew." 

A  Jew!  a  young  gentleman!  a  person  who  did  everything 
by  proxy,  and  made  a  secret  of  all  his  motions!  Here  was 
abundant  matter  for  the  speculations  and  suspicions  of  Gines. 
He  was  confirmed  in  them,  without  adverting  to  the  process 
of  his  own  mind,  by  the  subject  of  my  lucubrations, — men 
who  died  by  the  hand  of  the  executioner.  He  said  little 
more  to  his  brother,  except  asking,  as  if  casually,  what  sort 
of  an  old  woman  this  was?  of  what  age  she  might  be?  and 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  333 

whether  she  often  brought  him  materials  of  this  kind?  and 
soon  after  took  occasion  to  leave  him. 

It  was  with  vast  pleasure  that  Gines  had  listened  to  this 
unhoped-for  information.  Having  collected  from  his 
brother  sufficient  hints  relative  to  the  person  and  appearance 
of  Mrs.  Marney,  and  understanding  that  he  expected  to  re- 
ceive something  from  me  the  next  day,  Gines  took  his  stand 
in  the  street  early,  that  he  might  not  risk  miscarriage  by 
negligence.  He  waited  several  hours,  but  not  without  suc- 
cess. Mrs.  Marney  came;  he  watched  her  into  the  house; 
and,  after  about  twenty  minutes'  delay,  saw  her  return.  He 
dogged  her  from  street  to  street;  observed  her  finally  en- 
ter the  door  of  a  private  house;  and  congratulated  himself 
upon  having  at  length  arrived  at  the  consummation  of  his 
labours. 

The  house  she  entered  was  not  her  own  habitation.  By 
a  sort  of  miraculous  accident  she  had  observed  Gines  follow- 
ing her  in  the  street.  As  she  went  home  she  saw  a  woman 
who  had  fallen  down  in  a  fainting  fit.  Moved  by  the  com- 
passion that  was  ever  alive  in  her,  she  approached  her,  in 
order  to  render  her  assistance.  Presently,  a  crowd  col- 
lected round  them.  Mrs.  Marney,  having  done  what  she 
was  able,  once  more  proceeded  homewards.  Observing  the 
crowd  round  her,  the  idea  of  pickpockets  occurred  to  her 
mind ;  she  put  her  hands  to  her  sides,  and  at  the  same  time 
looked  round  upon  the  populace.  She  had  left  the  circle 
somewhat  abruptly;  and  Gines,  who  had  been  obliged  to 
come  nearer,  lest  he  should  lose  her  in  the  confusion,  was 
at  that  moment  standing  exactly  opposite  to  her.  His  vis- 
age was  of  the  most  extraordinary  kind;  habit  had  written 
the  characters  of  malignant  cunning  and  dauntless  effrontery 
in  every  line  of  his  face ;  and  Mrs.  Marney,  who  was  neither 
philosopher  nor  physiognomist,  was  nevertheless  struck. 
This  good  woman,  like  most  persons  of  her  notable  charac- 
ter, had  a  peculiar  way  of  going  home,  not  through  the 
open  streets,  but  by  narrow  lanes  and  alleys,  with  intricate 
insertions  and  sudden  turnings.     In  one  of  these,  by  some 


334  ADVENTURES  OF 

accident,  she  once  again  caught  a  glance  of  her  pursuer. 
This  circumstance,  together  with  the  singularity  of  his  ap- 
pearance, awakened  her  conjectures.  Could  he  be  following 
her?  It  was  the  middle  of  the  day,  and  she  could  have  no 
fears  for  herself.  But  could  this  circumstance  have  any 
reference  to  me?  She  recollected  the  precautions  and  se- 
crecy I  practised,  and  had  no  doubt  that  I  had  reasons  for 
what  I  did.  She  recollected  that  she  had  always  been  upon 
her  guard  respecting  me;  but  had  she  been  sufficiently  so? 
She  thought  that,  if  she  should  be  the  means  of  any  mis- 
chief to  me,  she  should  be  miserable  for  ever.  She  de- 
termined, therefore,  by  way  of  precaution  in  case  of  the 
worst,  to  call  at  a  friend's  house,  and  send  me  word  of  what 
had  occurred.  Having  instructed  her  friend,  she  went  out 
immediately  upon  a  visit  to  a  person  in  the  exactly  opposite 
direction,  and  desired  her  friend  to  proceed  upon  the  errand 
to  me,  five  minutes  after  she  left  the  house.  By  this  pru- 
dence she  completely  extricated  me  from  the  present  danger. 
Meantime  the  intelligence  that  was  brought  me  by  no 
means  ascertained  the  greatness  of  the  peril.  For  any- 
thing I  could  discover  in  it  the  circumstance  might  be  per- 
fectly innocent,  and  the  fear  solely  proceed  from  the  over- 
caution  and  kindness  of  this  benevolent  and  excellent 
woman.  Yet,  such  was  the  misery  of  my  situation,  I  had 
no  choice.  For  this  menace  or  no  menace  I  was  obliged  to 
desert  my  habitation  at  a  minute's  warning,  taking  with  me 
nothing  but  what  I  could  carry  in  my  hand ;  to  see  my  gen- 
erous benefactress  no  more;  to  quit  my  little  arrangements 
and  provision;  and  to  seek  once  again,  in  some  forlorn  re- 
treat, new  projects,  and,  if  of  that  I  could  have  any  rational 
hope,  a  new  friend.  I  descended  into  the  street  with  a  heavy, 
not  an  irresolute  heart.  It  was  broad  day.  I  said,  per- 
sons are  at  this  moment  supposed  to  be  roaming  the  street  in 
search  of  me:  I  must  not  trust  to  the  chance  of  their  pursu- 
ing one  direction,  and  I  another.  I  traversed  half  a  dozen 
streets,  and  then  dropped  into  an  obscure  house  of  enter- 
tainment for  persons  of  small  expense.    In  this  house  I 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  335 

took  some  refreshment,  passed  several  hours  of  active  but 
melancholy  thinking,  and  at  last  procured  a  bed.  As  soon, 
however,  as  it  was  dark  I  went  out  (for  this  was  indispen- 
sable) to  purchase  the  materials  of  a  new  disguise.  Having 
adjusted  it  as  well  as  I  could  during  the  night,  I  left  this 
asylum,  with  the  same  precautions  that  I  had  employed  in 
former  instances. 


CHAPTER  THIRTY-SIX 

I  PROCURED  a  new  lodging.  By  some  bias  of  the 
mind,  it  may  be,  gratifying  itself  with  images  of  peril, 
I  inclined  to  believe  that  Mrs.  Marney's  alarm  had  not 
been  without  foundation.  I  was,  however,  unable  to  con- 
jecture through  what  means  danger  had  approached  me; 
and  had,  therefore,  only  the  unsatisfactory  remedy  of  re- 
doubling my  watch  upon  all  my  actions.  Still  I  had  the 
joint  considerations  pressing  upon  me  of  security  and  sub- 
sistence. I  had  some  small  remains  of  the  produce  of  my 
former  industry;  but  this  was  but  small,  for  my  employer 
was  in  arrear  with  me,  and  I  did  not  choose  in  any  method 
to  apply  to  him  for  payment.  The  anxieties  of  my  mind,  in 
spite  of  all  my  struggles,  preyed  upon  my  health.  I  did  not 
consider  myself  as  in  safety  for  an  instant.  My  appear- 
ance was  wasted  to  a  shadow;  and  I  started  at  every 
sound  that  was  unexpected.  Sometimes  I  was  half- 
tempted  to  resign  myself  into  the  hands  of  the  law,  and 
brave  its  worst;  but  resentment  and  indignation  at  those 
times  speedily  flowed  back  upon  my  mind,  and  reanimated 
my  perseverance. 

I  knew  no  better  resource  with  respect  to  subsistence  than 
that  I  had  employed  in  the  former  instance,  of  seeking  some 
third  person  to  stand  between  me  and  the  disposal  of  my 
industry.  I  might  find  an  individual  ready  to  undertake 
this  office  in  my  behalf;  but  where  should  I  find  the  benevo- 
lent soul  of  Mrs.  Marney?  The  person  I  fixed  upon  was  a 
Mr.  Spurrel,  a  man  who  took  in  work  from  the  watch- 
makers, and  had  an  apartment  upon  our  second  floor.  I  ex- 
amined him  two  or  three  times  with  irresolute  glances,  as 
we  passed  upon  the  stairs,  before  I  would  venture  to  accost 

336 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  337 

him.     He  observed  this,  and  at  length  kindly  invited  me 
into  his  apartment. 

Being  seated,  he  condoled  with  me  upon  my  seeming  bad 
health,  and  the  solitary  mode  of  my  living,  and  wished  to 
know  whether  he  could  be  of  any  service  to  me.  "From  the 
first  moment  he  saw  me  he  had  conceived  an  affection  for 
me."  In  my  present  disguise  I  appeared  twisted  and  de- 
formed, and  in  other  respects  by  no  means  an  object  of  at- 
traction. But  it  seemed  Mr.  Spurrel  had  lost  an  only  son 
about  six  months  before,  and  I  was  "the  very  picture  of 
him."  If  I  had  put  off  my  counterfeited  ugliness,  I  should 
probably  have  lost  all  hold  upon  his  affections.  "He  was 
now  an  old  man,"  as  he  observed,  "just  dropping  into  the 
grave,  and  his  son  had  been  his  only  consolation.  The  poor  ! 
lad  was  always  ailing,  but  he  had  been  a  nurse  to  him ;  and 
the  more  tending  he  required  while  he  was  alive,  the  more 
he  missed  him  now  he  was  dead.  Now  he  had  not  a  friend, 
nor  anybody  that  cared  for  him,  in  the  whole  world.  If  I 
pleased,  I  should  be  instead  of  that  son  to  him,  and  he 
would  treat  me  in  all  respects  with  the  same  attention  and 
kindness." 

I  expressed  my  sense  of  these  benevolent  offers,  but  told 
him  that  I  should  be  sorry  to  be  in  any  way  burthensome  to 
him.  "My  ideas  at  present  led  me  to  a  private  and  solitary 
life,  and  my  chief  difficulty  was  to  reconcile  this  with  some 
mode  of  earning  necessary  subsistence.  If  he  would  con- 
descend to  lend  me  his  assistance  in  smoothing  this  difficulty, 
it  would  be  the  greatest  benefit  he  could  confer  on  me." 
I  added,  that  "my  mind  had  always  had  a  mechanical  and 
industrious  turn,  and  that  I  did  not  doubt  of  soon  mastering 
any  craft  to  which  I  seriously  applied  myself.  I  had  not 
been  brought  up  to  any  trade;  but,  if  he  would  favor  me 
with  his  instructions,  I  would  work  with  him  as  long  as  he 
pleased  for  a  bare  subsistence.  I  knew  that  I  was  asking 
of  him  an  extraordinary  kindness;  but  I  was  urged  on  the 
one  hand  by  the  most  extreme  necessity,  and  encouraged  on 
the  other  by  the  persuasiveness  of  his  friendly  professions." 


33&  ADVENTURES  OF 

The  old  man  dropped  some  tears  over  my  apparent  dis- 
tress, and  readily  consented  to  everything  I  proposed.  Our 
agreement  was  soon  made,  and  I  entered  upon  my  functions 
accordingly.  My  new  friend  was  a  man  of  a  singular  turn 
of  mind.  Love  of  money,  and  a  charitable  ofnciousness  of 
demeanour,  were  his  leading  characteristics.  He  lived  in 
the  most  penurious  manner,  and  denied  himself  every  in- 
dulgence. I  entitled  myself  almost  immediately,  as  he 
frankly  acknowledged,  to  some  remuneration  for  my  labours, 
and  accordingly  he  insisted  upon  my  being  paid.  He  did 
not,  however,  as  some  persons  would  have  done  under  the 
circumstance,  pay  me  the  whole  amount  of  my  earnings,  but 
professed  to  subtract  from  them  twenty  per  cent,  as  an 
equitable  consideration  for  instruction,  and  commission- 
money  in  procuring  me  a  channel  for  my  industry.  Yet  he 
frequently  shed  tears  over  me,  was  uneasy  in  every  mo- 
ment of  our  indispensable  separation,  and  exhibited  perpet- 
ual tokens  of  attachment  and  fondness.  I  found  him  a  man 
of  excellent  mechanical  contrivance,  and  received  consid- 
erable pleasure  from  his  communications.  My  own  sources 
of  information  were  various;  and  he  frequently  expressed 
his  wonder  and  delight  in  the  contemplation  of  my  powers, 
as  well  of  amusement  as  exertion. 

Thus  I  appeared  to  have  attained  a  situation  not  less 
eligible  than  in  my  connexion  with  Mrs.  Marney.  I  was, 
however,  still  more  unhappy.  My  fits  of  despondence  were 
deeper,  and  of  more  frequent  recurrence.  My  health  every 
day  grew  worse;  and  Mr.  Spurrel  was  not  without  appre- 
hensions that  he  should  lose  me,  as  he  before  lost  his  only 
son. 

I  had  not  been  long,  however,  in  this  new  situation,  be- 
fore an  incident  occurred  which  filled  me  with  greater  alarm 
and  apprehension  than  ever.  I  was  walking  out  one  evening, 
after  a  long  visitation  of  languor,  for  an  hour's  exercise  and 
air,  when  my  ears  were  struck  with  two  or  three  casual 
sounds  from  the  mouth  of  a  hawker  who  was  bawling  his 
wares.     I  stood  still  to  inform  myself  more  exactly,  when,  j 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  339 

to  my  utter  astonishment  and  confusion,  I  heard  him  de- 
liver himself  nearly  in  these  words: — "Here  you  have  the 

MOST  WONDERFUL  AND  SURPRISING  HISTORY  AND  MIRACU- 
LOUS adventures  of  Caleb  Williams:  you  are  informed 
how  he  first  robbed,  and  then  brought  false  accusations 
against  his  master;  as  also  of  his  attempting  divers  times  to 
break  out  of  prison,  till  at  last  he  effected  his  escape  in  the 
most  wonderful  and  incredible  manner ;  as  also  of  his  trav- 
elling the  kingdom  in  various  disguises,  and  the  robberies  he 
committed  with  a  most  desperate  and  daring  gang  of  thieves; 
and  of  his  coming  up  to  London,  where  it  is  supposed  he  now 
lies  concealed;  with  a  true  and  faithful  copy  of  the  hue  and 
cry  printed  and  published  by  one  of  his  majesty1  s  most  prin- 
cipal secretaries  of  state,  offering  a  reward  of  one  hundred 
guineas  for  apprehending  him.  All  for  the  price  of  one 
halfpenny." 

Petrified  as  I  was  at  these  amazing  and  dreadful  sounds, 
I  had  the  temerity  to  go  up  to  the  man  and  purchase  one  of 
his  papers.  I  was  desperately  resolved  to  know  the  exact 
state  of  the  fact,  and  what  I  had  to  depend  upon.  I  car- 
ried it  with  me  a  little  way,  till,  no  longer  able  to  endure  the 
tumult  of  my  impatience,  I  contrived  to  make  out  the  chief 
part  of  its  contents  by  the  help  of  a  lamp  at  the  upper  end 
of  a  narrow  passage.  I  found  it  contained  a  greater  number 
of  circumstances  than  could  have  been  expected  in  this 
species  of  publication.  I  was  equalled  to  the  most  no- 
torious housebreaker  in  the  art  of  penetrating  through  walls 
and  doors,  and  to  the  most  accomplished  swindler  in  plausi- 
bleness,  duplicity,  and  disguise.  The  handbill  which  Lar- 
kins  had  first  brought  to  us  upon  the  forest  was  printed  at 
length.  All  my  disguises,  previously  to  the  last  alarm  that 
had  been  given  me  by  the  providence  of  Mrs.  Marney,  were 
faithfully  enumerated;  and  the  public  were  warned  to  be 
upon  their  watch  against  a  person  of  an  uncouth  and  ex- 
traordinary appearance,  and  who  lived  in  a  recluse  and  soli- 
tary manner.  I  also  learned  from  this  paper  that  my  former 
lodgings  had  been  searched  on  the  very  evening  of  my  es- 


340  ADVENTURES  OF 

cape,  and  that  Mrs.  Marney  had  been  sent  to  Newgate, 
upon  a  charge  of  misprision  of  felony. — This  last  circunv 
stance  affected  me  deeply.  In  the  midst  of  my  own  suf- 
v  ferings  my— sympathies  flowed  undiminished.  It  was  a 
most  cruel  and  intolerable  idea,  if  I  were  not  only  myself 
to  be  an  object  of  unrelenting  persecution,  but  my  •^ery 
touch  were  to  be  infectious,  and  every  one  that  succoured 
me  was  to  be  involved  in  the  common  ruin.  My  instant 
feeling  was  that  of  a  willingness  to  undergo  the  utmost  malice 
of  my  enemies,  could  I  by  that  means  have  saved  this  ex- 
cellent woman  from  alarm  and  peril. — I  afterward  learned 
that  Mrs.  Marney  was  delivered  from  confinement,  by  the 
interposition  of  her  noble  relation. 

My  sympathy  for  Mrs.  Marney,  however,  was  at  this 
moment  a  transient  one.  A  more  imperious  and  irresistible 
consideration  demanded  to  be  heard. 

With  what  sensations  did  I  ruminate  upon  this  paper! 
Every  word  of  it  carried  despair  to  my  heart.  The  actual 
apprehension  that  I  dreaded  would  perhaps  have  been  less 
horrible.  It  would  have  put  an  end  to  that  lingering  terror 
to  which  I  was  a'  prey.  Disguise  was  no  longer  of 
use.  A  numerous  class  of  individuals,  through  every  de- 
partment, almost  every—house  -ot^the  metropolis,  would  be 
induced  to  look  with  a  suspicious  eye  upon  every  stranger, 
especially  every  solitary  stranger,  that  fell  under  their  ob- 
servation. The  prize  of  one  hundred  guineas  was  held  out 
to  excite  their  avarice  and  sharpen  their  penetration.  It 
was  no  longer  Bow-street,  it  was  a  million  of  men  in  arms 
against  me.  Neither  had  I  the  refuge,  which  few  men  have 
been  so  miserable  as  to  want,  of  one  single  individual  with 
whom  to  repose  my  alarms,  and  who  might  shelter  me  from 
the  gaze  of  indiscriminate  curiosity. 

What  could  exceed  the  horrors  of  this  situation?  My 
heart  knocked  against  my  ribs,  my  bosom  heaved,  I  gasped 
and  panted  for  breath.  "There  is  no  end.  then,"  said  I, 
"to  my  persecutors!  My  unwearied  and  long-continued  la- 
bours lead    to   no   termination!     Termination!     No;    the 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  341 

lapse  of  time,  that  cures  all  other  things,  makes  my  case 
more  desperate!  Why,  then,"  exclaimed  I,  a  new  train  of 
thought  suddenly  rushing  into  my  mind,  "why  should  I 
sustain  the  contest  any  longer?  I  can  at  least  elude  my 
persecutors  in  death.  I  can  bury  myself  and  the  traces  of 
my  existence  together  in  friendly  oblivion;  and  thus  be- 
queath eternal  doubt,  and  ever  new  alarm,  to  those  who 
have  no  peace  but  in  pursuing  rne!" 

In  the  midst  of  the  horrors  with  which  I  was  now  im- 
pressed, this  idea  gave  me  pleasure;  and  I  hastened  to  the 
Thames  to  put  it  in  instant  execution.  Such  was  the  par- 
oxysm of  my  mind  that  my  powers  of  vision  became  par- 
tially suspended.  I  was  no  longer  conscious  to  the  feeble- 
ness of  disease,  but  rushed  along  with  fervent  impetuosity. 
I  passed  from  street  to  street  without  observing  what  di- 
rection I  pursued.  After  wandering,  I  know  not  how  long, 
I  arrived  at  London  Bridge.  I  hastened  to  the  stairs,  and 
saw  the  the  river  covered  with  vessels. 

"No  human  being  must  see  me,"  said  I,  "at  the  instant 
that  I  vanish  for  ever."  This  thought  required  some  con- 
sideration. A  portion  of  time  had  elapsed  since  my  first 
desperate  purpose.  My  understanding  began  to  return. 
The  sight  of  the  vessels  suggested  to  me  the  idea  of  once 
more  attempting  to  leave  my  native  country. 

I  inquired,  and  speedily  found  that  the  cheapest  passage 
I  could  procure  was  in  a  vessel  moored  near  the  Tower,  and 
which  was  to  sail  in  a  few  days  for  Middleburgh  in  Holland. 
I  would  have  gone  instantly  on  board,  and  have  endeavoured 
to  prevail  with  the  captain  to  let  me  remain  there  till  he 
sailed;  but  unfortunately  I  had  not  money  enough  in  my 
pocket  to  defray  my  passage. 

It  was  worse  than  this.  I  had  not  money  enough  in  the 
world.  I  however  paid  the  captain  half  his  demand,  and 
promised  to  return  with  the  rest.  I  knew  not  in  what  man- 
ner it  was  to  be  procured,  but  I  believed  that  I  should  not 
fail  in  it.  I  had  some  idea  of  applying  to  Mr.  Spurrel. 
Surely  he  would  not  refuse  me?     He  appeared  to  love  me 


342  ADVENTURES  OF 

with  parental  affection,  and  I  thought  I  might  trust  myself 
for  a  moment  in  his  hands. 

I  approached  my  place  of  residence  with  a  heavy  and 
foreboding  heart.  Mr.  Spurrel  was  not  at  home;  and  I 
was  obliged  to  wait  for  his  return.  Worn  out  with  fatigue, 
disappointment,  and  the  ill  state  of  my  health.  I  sunk  upon 
a  chair.  Speedily,  however,  I  recollected  myself.  I  had 
work  of  Mr.  SpurreFs  in  my  trunk,  which  had  been  de- 
livered out  to  me  that  very  morning,  to  five  times  the  amount 
I  wanted.  I  canvassed  for  a  moment  whether  I  should 
make  use  of  this  property  as  if  it  were  my  own:  but  I  re- 
jected the  idea  with  disdain.  I  had  never  in  the  smallest  de- 
gree merited  the  reproaches  that  were  cast  upon  me:  and  I 
determined  I  never  would  merit  them.  I  sat  gasping,  anxious, 
full  of  the  blackest  forebodings.  My  terrors  appeared,  even 
to  my  own  mind,  greater  and  more  importunate  than  the  cir- 
cumstances authorized. 

It  was  extraordinary  that  Mr.  Spurrel  should  be  abroad 
at  this  hour;  I  had  never  known  it  happen  before.  His 
bedtime  was  between  nine  and  ten.  Ten  o'clock  came, 
eleven  o'clock,  but  not  Mr.  Spurrel.  At  midnight  I  heard 
his  knock  at  the  door.  Every  soul  in  the  house  was  in  bed. 
Mr.  Spurrel,  on  account  of  his  regular  hours,  was  unpro- 
vided with  a  key  to  open  for  himself.  A  gleam,  a  sickly 
gleam,  of  the  social  spirit  came  over  my  heart.  I  flew 
nimbly  down  stairs,  and  opened  the  door. 

I  could  perceive,  by  the  little  taper  in  my  hand,  some- 
thing extraordinary  in  his  countenance.  I  had  not  time  to 
speak,  before  I  saw  two  other  men  follow  him.  At  the  first 
glance  I  was  sufficiently  assured  what  sort  of  persons  they 
were.  At  the  second,  I  perceived  that  one  of  them  was  no 
other  than  Gines  himself.  I  had  understood  formerly  that 
he  had  been  in  this  profession,  and  I  was  not  surprised  to 
find  him  in  it  again.  Though  I  had  for  three  hours  en- 
deavoured, as  it  were,  to  prepare  myself  for  the  unavoidable 
necessity  of  falling  once  again  into  the  hands  of  the  officers 
of  law,  the  sensation  I  felt  at  their  entrance  was  indescriba- 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  343 

bly  agonizing.  I  was  besides  not  a  little  astonished  at  the 
time  and  manner  of  their  entrance;  and  I  felt  anxious  to 
know  whether  Mr.  Spurrel  could  be  base  enough  to  have 
been  their  introducer. 

I  was  not  long  held  in  perplexity.  He  no  sooner  saw  his 
followers  within  the  door,  than  he  exclaimed,  with  con- 
vulsive eagerness,  "There,  there,  that  is  your  man!  thank 
God!  thank  God!"  Gines  looked  eagerly  in  my  face,  with 
a  countenance  expressive  alternately  of  hope  and  doubt,  and 
answered,  "By  God,  and  I  do  not  know  whether  it  be  or 
no!  I  am  afraid  we  are  in  the  wrong  box!"  Then  recol- 
lecting himself,  "We  will  go  into  the  house,  and  examine 
further,  however."  We  all  went  up  stairs  into  Mr.  Spur- 
rePs  room;  I  set  down  the  candle  upon  the  table.  I  had 
hitherto  been  silent;  but  I  determined  not  to  desert  myself, 
and  was  a  little  encouraged  to  exertion  by  the  skepticism  of 
Gines.  With  a  calm  and  deliberate  manner,  therefore,  in 
my  feigned  voice,  one  of  the  characteristics  of  which  was 
lisping,  I  asked,  "Pray,  gentlemen,  what  may  be  your  pleas- 
ure with  me?" — "Why,"  said  Gines,  "our  errand  is  with  one 
Caleb  Williams,  and  a  precious  rascal  he  is!  I  ought  to 
know  the  chap  well  enough;  but  they  say  he  has  as  many 
faces  as  there  are  days  in  the  year.  So  you'll  please  to 
pull  off  your  face ;  or,  if  you  cannot  do  that,  at  least  you  can 
pull  off  your  clothes,  and  let  us  see  what  your  hump  is 
made  of." 

I  remonstrated,  but  in  vain.  I  stood  detected  in  part  of 
my  artifice;  and  Gines,  though  still  uncertain,  was  every 
moment  more  and  more  confirmed  in  his  suspicions.  Mr. 
Spurrel  perfectly  gloated,  with  eyes  that  seemed  ready  to 
devour  everything  that  passed.  As  my  imposture  gradually 
appeared  more  palpable,  he  repeated  his  exclamation, 
"Thank  God!  thank  God!"  At  last,  tired  with  this  scene 
of  mummery,  and  disgusted  beyond  measure  with  the  base 
and  hypocritical  figure  I  seemed  to  exhibit,  I  exclaimed, 
"Well,  I  am  Caleb  Williams;  conduct  me  wherever  you 
please!    And  now,  Mr.  Spurrel!" — He  gave  a  violent  start. 


344  ADVENTURES  OF 

The  instant  I  declared  myself  his  transport  had  been  at  the 
highest,  and  was,  to  any  power  he  was  able  to  exert,  abso- 
lutely uncontrollable.  But  the  unexpectedness  of  my  address, 
and  the  tone  in  which  I  spoke,  electrified  him. — "Is  it  pos- 
sible," continued  I,  "that  you  should  have  been  the  wretch 
to  betray  me?  What  have  I  done  to  deserve  this  treatment? 
Is  this  the  kindness  you  professed?  the  affection  that  was 
perpetually  in  your  mouth?  to  be  the  death  of  me!" 

"My  poor  boy!  my  poor  creature!"  cried  Spurrel,  whim- 
pering, and  in  a  tone  of  the  humblest  expostulation,  "indeed 
I  could  not  help  it!  I  would  have  helped  it,  if  I  could!  I 
hope  they  will  not  hurt  my  darling!  I  am  sure  I  shall  die 
if  they  do!" 

"Miserable  driveller!"  interrupted  I,  with  a  stern  voice, 
"do  you  betray  me  into  the  remorseless  fangs  of  the  law,  and 
then  talk  of  my  not  being  hurt?  I  know  my  sentence,  and 
am  prepared  to  meet  it!  You  have  fixed  the  halter  upon 
neck,  and  atthe^same  piiui  putrid  have  done  so  to  your 
onlylOn4-^Qo,  count  your  accursed  guineas!  My  life  would 
have  been  safer~m-4hehands  of  one  I  had  never  seen  than  in 
yours,  whose  mouth  ancT'wtrose-^ye's'lor  ever  ran  over  with 
crocodile  affection!" 

I  have  always  believed  that  my  sickness,  and,  as  he 
apprehended,  approaching  death,  contributed  its  part  to  the 
treachery  of  Mr.  Spurrel.  He  predicted  to  his  own  mind 
the  time  when  I  should  no  longer  be  able  to  work.  He 
recollected  with  agony  the  expense  that  attended  his  son's 
illness  and  death.  He  determined  to  afford  me  no  as- 
sistance of  a  similar  kind.  He  feared,  however,  the  reproach 
of  deserting  me.  He  feared  the  tenderness  of  his  nature. 
He  felt  that  I  was  growing  upon  his  affections,  and  that  in  a 
short  time  he  could  not  have  deserted  me.  He  was  driven 
by  a  sort  of  implicit  impulse,  for  the  sake  of  avoiding  one 
ungenerous  action,  to  take  refuge  in  another,  the  basest  and 
most  diabolical.  This  motive,  conjoining  with  the  prospect 
of  the  proffered  reward,  was  an  incitement  too  powerful  for 
him  to  resist. 


CHAPTER  THIRTY-SEVEN 

HAVING  given  vent  to  my  resentment,  I  left  Mr. 
Spurrel  motionless,  and  unable  to  utter  a  word. 
Gines  and  his  companion  attended  me.  It  is  unnec- 
essary to  repeat  all  the  insolence  of  this  man.  He  alternately 
triumphed  in  the  completion  of  his  revenge,  and  regretted 
the  loss  of  the  reward  to  the  shrivelled  old  curmudgeon  we 
had  just  quitted,  whom,  however,  he  swore  he  would  cheat 
of  it  by  one  means  or  another.  He  claimed  to  himself  the 
ingenuity  of  having  devised  the  halfpenny  legend,  the 
thought  of  which  was  all  his  own,  and  was  an  expedient 
that  was  impossible  to  fail.  There  was  neither  law  nor 
justice,  he  said,  to  be  had,  if  Hunks,  who  had  done  nothing, 
were  permitted  to  pocket  the  cash,  and  his  merit  were  left 
undistinguished  and  penniless. 

I  paid  but  little  attention  to  his  story.  It  struck  upon 
my  sense,  and  I  was  able  to  recollect  it  at  my  nearest  leisure, 
though  I  thought  not  of  it  at  the  time.  For  the  present  I 
was  busily  employed,  reflecting  on  my  new  situation,  and  the 
conduct  to  be  observed  in  it. 

The  thought  of  suicide  had  twice,  in  moments  of  un- 
common despair,  suggested  itself  to  my  mind;  but  it  was 
far  from  my  habitual  meditations.  At  present,  and  in  all 
cases  where  death  was  immediately  threatened  me  from  the 
injustice  of  others,  I  felt  myself  disposed  to  contend  to  the 
last. 

My  prospects  were  indeed  sufficiently  gloomy  and  dis- 
couraging. How  much  labour  had  I  exerted,  first  to  extri- 
cate myself  from  prison,  and  next  to  evade  the  diligence  of 
my  pursuers;  and  the  result  of  all,  to  be  brought  back  to  the 
point  from  which  I  began!     I  had  gained  fame,  indeed,  the 

345 


346  ADVENTURES  OF 

miserable  fame  to  have  my  story  bawled  forth  by  hawkers 
and  ballad-mongers,  to  have  my  praises  as  an  active  and 
enterprising  villain  celebrated  among  footmen  and  chamber- 
maids; but  I  was  neither  an  Erostratus  nor  an  Alexander, 
to  die  contented  with  that  species  of  eulogium.  With  re- 
spect to  all  that  was  solid,  what  chance  could  I  find  in  new 
exertions  of  a  similar  nature?  Never  was  a  human  creature 
pursued  by  enemies  more  inventive  or  envenomed.  I  could 
have  small  hope  that  they  would  ever  cease  their  persecu- 
tion, or  that  my  future  attempts  would  be  crowned  with 
a  more  desirable  issue. 

They  were  considerations  like  these  that  dictated   my 
resolution.     My  mind  had  been  gradually  weaning   from 
Mr.  Falkland,  till  its  feeling  rose  to  something  like  abhor- 
rence.    I  had  long  cherished  a  reverence  for  him,  which 
not  even  animosity  and  subornation  on  his  part  could  utterly 
destroy.     But  I  now  ascribed  a  character  so  inhumanly 
sanguinary  to  his  mind — I  saw  something  so  fiendlike  in  the 
thus  hunting  me  round  the  world,  and  determining  to  be 
/  )    satisfied  with  nothing  less  than  my  blood,  while  at  the  same 
/         time  he  knew  my  innocence,  my  indisposition  to  mischief, 
I         nay,  I  might  add,  my  virtues — that  henceforth  I  trampled 
^v   reverence  and  the  recollection  of  former  esteem  under  my 
)  feet.     I  lost  all  regard  to  his  intellectual  greatness,  and  all 
-A  pity   for   the  agonies   of   his   soul.     I   also   would   abjure 
J  forbearance.     I  would  show  myself  bitter  and  inflexible  as 
he  had  done.    Was  it  wise  in  him  to  drive  me  into  extrem- 
ity and  madness?     Had  he  no  fears  for  his  own  secret  and 
\     atrocious  offences? 

V^  I  had  been  obliged  to  spend  the  remainder  of  the  night 
upon  which  I  had  been  apprehended  in  prison.  During 
the  interval  I  had  thrown  off  every  vestige  of  disguise,  and 
appeared  the  next  morning  in  my  own  person.  I  was  of 
course  easily  identified ;  and  this  being  the  whole  with  which 
the  magistrates  before  whom  I  now  stood  thought  them- 
selves concerned,  they  were  proceeding  to  make  out  an  order 
for  my  being  conducted  back  to  my  own  county.    I  sus- 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  347 

pended  the  despatch  of  this  measure  by  observing  that  I 
had  something  to  disclose.  This  is  an  overture  to  which 
men  appointed  for  the  administration  of  criminal  justice 
never  fail  to  attend. 

I  went  before  the  magistrates,  to  whose  office  Gines  and 
his  comrade  conducted  me,  fully  determined  to  publish  those 
astonishing  secrets  of  which  I  had  hitherto  been  the  faithful 
depositary;  and,  once  for  all,  to  turn  the  tables  upon  my 
accuser.  It  was  time  that  the  real  criminal  should  be  the 
sufferer,  and  not  that  innocence  should  for  ever  labour  under 
the  oppression  of  guilt. 

I  said  that  "I  had  always  protested  my  innocence,  and 
must  now  repeat  the  protest." 

"In  that  case,"  retorted  the  senior  magistrate,  abruptly, 
"what  can  you  have  to  disclose?  If  you  are  innocent,  that 
is  no  business  of  ours!     We  act  officially." 

"I  always  declared,"  continued  I,  "that  I  was  the  per- 
petrator of  no  guilt,  but  that  the  guilt  wholly  belonged  to 
my  accuser.  He  privately  conveyed  these  effects  among  my 
property,  and  then  charged  me  with  the  robbery.  I  now 
declare  more  than  that,  that  this  man  is  a  murderer,  that  I 
detected  his  criminality,  and  that,  for  that  reason,  he  is 
determined  to  deprive  me  of  life.  I  presume,  gentlemen, 
that  you  do  consider  it  as  your  business  to  take  this  declara- 
tion. I  am  persuaded  you  will  be  by  no  means  disposed, 
actively  or  passively,  to  contribute  to  the  atrocious  in- 
justice under  which  I  suffer,  to  the  imprisonment  and  con- 
demnation of  an  innocent  man,  in  order  that  a  murderer 
may  go  free.  I  suppressed  this  story  as  long  as  I  could. 
I  was  extremely  averse  to  be  the  author  of  the  unhappiness 
or  the  death  of  a  human  being.  But  all  patience  and  sub- 
mission have  their  limits." 

"Give  me  leave,  sir,"  rejoined  the  magistrate,  with  an  air 
of  affected  moderation,  "to  ask  you  two  questions.  Were 
you  any  way  aiding,  abetting,  or  contributing  to  this  mur- 
der?" 

"No." 


348  ADVENTURES  OF 

"And  pray,  sir,  who  is  this  Mr.  Falkland?  and  what  may 
have  been  the  nature  of  your  connexion  with  him?" 

"Mr.  Falkland  is  a  gentleman  of  six  thousand  per  annum. 
I  lived  with  him  as  his  secretary." 

"In  other  words,  you  were  his  servant?" 

"As  you  please." 

"Very  well,  sir;  that  is  quite  enough  for  me.  First,  I 
have  to  tell  you,  as  a  magistrate,  that  I  can  have  nothing 
to  do  with  your  declaration.  If  you  had  been  concerned 
in  the  murder  you  talk  of,  that  would  alter  the  case.  But 
it  is  out  of  all  reasonable  rule  for  a  magistrate  to  take  an 
information  from  a  felon,  except  against  his  accomplices. 
Next,  I  think  it  right  to  observe  to  you,  in  my  own  proper 
person,  that  you  appear  to  me  to  be  the  most  impudent 
rascal  I  ever  saw.  Why,  are  you  such  an  ass  as  to  suppose 
that  the  sort  of  story  you  have  been  telling  can  be  of  any 
service  to  you,  either  here,  or  at  the  assizes,  or  anywhere 
else?  A  fine  time  of  it  indeed  it  would  be  if,  when  gentle- 
men of  six  thousand  a-year  take  up  their  servants  for  rob- 
bing them,  those  servants  could  trump  up  such  accusations 
as  these,  and  could  get  any  magistrate  or  court  of  justice 
to  listen  to  them!  Whether  or  no  the  felony  with  which 
you  stand  charged  would  have  brought  you  to  the  gallows, 
I  will  not  pretend  to  say;  but  I  am  sure  this  story  will. 
There  would  be  a  speedy  end  to  all  order  and  good  gov- 
ernment, if  fellows  that  trample  upon  ranks  and  distinctions 
in  this  atrocious  sort  were  upon  any  consideration  suffered 
to  get  off." 

"And  do  you  refuse,  sir,  to  attend  to  the  particulars  of 
the  charge  I  allege?" 

"Yes,  sir,  I  do. — But  if  I  did  not,  pray  what  witnesses 
have  you  of  the  murder?" 

This  question  staggered  me. 

"None:  but  I  believe  I  can  make  out  a  circumstantial 
proof  of  a  nature  to  force  attention  from  the  most  indif- 
ferent hearer." 

"So  I  thought. — Officers,  take  him  from  the  bar!" 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  349 

Such  was  the  success  of  this  ultimate  resort  on  my  part, 
upon  which  I  had  built  with  such  undoubting  confidence. 
Till  now  I  had  conceived  that  the  unfavourable  situation  in 
which  I  was  placed  was  prolonged  by  my  own  forbearance; 
and  I  had  determined  to  endure  all  that  human  nature  could 
support  rather  than  have  recourse  to  this  extreme  recrimina- 
tion. That  idea  secretly  consoled  me  under  all  my  calam- 
ities; it  was  a  voluntary  sacrifice,  and  was  cheerfully  made. 
I  thought  myself  allied  to  the  army  of  martyrs  and  confes- 
sors; I  applauded  my  fortitude  and  self-denial;  and  I 
pleased  myself  with  the  idea,  that  I  had  the  power,  though 
I  hoped  never  to  employ  it,  by  an  unrelenting  display  of  my 
resources,  to  put  an  end  at  once  to  my  sufferings  and  perse- 
cutions. 

And  this  at  last  was  the  justice  of  mankind!  A  man, 
under  certain  circumstances,  shall  not  be  heard  in  the  de- 
tection of  a  crime,  because  he  has  not  been  a  participator  of 
it!  The  story  of  a  flagitious  murder  shall  be  listened  to 
with  indifference,  while  an  innocent  man  is  hunted,  like  a 
wild  beast,  to  the  farthest  corners  of  the  earth!  Six  thou^ 
sand  a  year  shall  protect  a  man  from  accusation;  and  the 
validity  of  an  impeachment  shall  be  superseded  because  the 
author  of  it  is  a  servant! 

I  was  conducted  back  to  the  very  prison  from  which  a 
few  months  before  I  had  made  my  escape.  With  a  bursting 
heart  I  entered  those  walls,  compelled  to  feel  that  all  my 
more  than  Herculean  labours  served  for  my  own  torture, 
and  for  no  other  end.  Since  my  escape  from  prison  I  had 
acquired  some  knowledge  of  the  world;  I  had  learned  by 
bitter  experience  by  how  many  links  society  had  a  hold 
upon  me,  and  how  closely  the  snares  of  despotism  beset  me. 
I  no  longer  beheld  the  world,  as  my  youthful  fancy  had 
once  induced  me  to  do,  as  a  scene  in  which  to  hide  or  to  ap- 
pear, and  to  exhibit  the  freaks  of  a  wanton  vivacity.  I  saw 
my  whole  species  as  ready,  in  one  mode  or  other,  to  be  made 
the  instruments  of  the  tyrant.  Hope  died  away  in  the  bot- 
tom of  my  heart.     Shut  up  for  the  first  night  in  my  dungeon, 


350  ADVENTURES  OF 

I  was  seized  at  intervals  with  temporary  phrensy.  From 
time  to  time  I  rent  the  universal  silence  with  roarings  of  un- 
supportable  despair.  But  this  was  a  transient  distraction. 
I  soon  returned  to  the  sober  recollection  of  myself  and  my 
miseries. 

My  prospects  were  more  gloomy,  and  my  situation  ap- 
parently more  irremediable  than  ever.  I  was  exposed  again, 
if  that  were  of  any  account,  to  the  insolence  and  tyranny 
that  are  uniformly  exercised  within  those  walls.  Why  should 
I  repeat  the  loathsome  tale  of  all  that  was  endured  by  me, 
and  is  endured  by  every  man  who  is  unhappy  enough  to 
fall  under  the  government  of  these  consecrated  ministers  of 
national  jurisprudence?  The  sufferings  I  had  already  ex- 
perienced, my  anxieties,  my  flight,  the  perpetual  expecta- 
tion of  being  discovered,  worse  than  the  discovery  itself, 
would  perhaps  have  been  enough  to  satisfy  the  most  insensi- 
ble individual,  in  the  court  of  his  own  conscience,  if  I  had 
ever  been  the  felon  I  was  pretended  to  be.  But  the  law 
has  neither  eyes,  nor  ears,  nor  bowels  of  humanity;  and  it 
turns  into  marble  the  hearts  of  all  those  that  are  nursed  in 
its  principles. 

I  however  once  more  recovered  my  spirit  of  determina- 
tion. I  resolved  that  while  I  had  life  I  would  never  be 
deserted  by  this  spirit.  Oppressed,  annihilated  I  might  be; 
but  if  I  died,  I  would  dje^resisting.  What  use,  what  ad- 
vantage, what  pleasurable  sentiment,  could  arise  from  a  tame 
surrender?  There  is  no  man  that  is  ignorant,  that  to  hum- 
ble yourself  at  the  feet  of  the  law  is  a  bootless  task;  in  her 
courts  there  is  no  room  for  amendment  and  reformation. 

My  fortitude  may  to  some  persons  appear  above  the 
standard  of  human  nature.  But  if  I  draw  back  the  veil 
from  my  heart,  they  will  readily  confess  their  mistake.  My 
heart  bled  at  every  pore.  My  resolution  was  not  the  calm 
sentiment  of  philosophy  and  reason.  It  was  a  gloomy  and 
desperate  purpose;  the  creature,  not  of  hope,  but  of  a  mind 
austerely  held  to  its  design,  that  felt,  as  it  were,  satisfied 
with  the  naked  effort,  and  prepared  to  give  success  or  mis- 


-> 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  351 

carriage  to  the  winds.  It  was  to  this  miserable  condition, 
which  might  awaken  sympathy  in  the  most  hardened  bosom, 
that  Mr.  Falkland  had  reduced  me. 

In  the  meantime,  strange  as  it  may  seem.  here,  in  prison, 
subject  to  innumerable  hardships,  and  in  the  assured  ex- 
pectation of  a  sentence  of  death.  I  recovered  my  health.  I 
ascribe  this  to  the  state  of  my  mind,  which  was  now  changed 
from  perpetual  anxiety,  terror,  and  alarm,  the  too  frequent 
inmates  of  a  prison,  but  which  I  upon  this  occasion  did  not 
seem  to  bring  along  with  me.  to  a  desperate  firmness. 

I  anticipated  the  event  of  my  trial.  I  determined  once 
more  to  escape  from  my  prison:  nor  did  I  doubt  of  my 
ability  to  effect  at  least  this  first  step  towards  my  future 
preservation.  The  assizes,  however,  were  near,  and  there 
were  certain  considers :::r. 5.  unnecessary  to  be  detailed,  that 
persuaded  me  there  might  be  benefit  in  waiting  till  my  trial 
should  actually  be  terminated,  before  I  made  my  attempt. 

It  stood  upon  the  list  as  one  of  the  latest  to  be  brought 
forward.  I  was  therefore  extremely  surprised  to  find  it 
called  out  of  its  order,  early  on  the  morning  of  the  second 
day.  But,  if  this  were  unexpected,  how  much  greater  was 
my  astonishment,  when  my  prosecutor  was  called,  to  find 
neither  Mr.  Falkland  nor  Mr.  Forester,  nor  a  single  indi- 
vidual of  any  description,  appear  against  me!  The  recog- 
nisances into  which  my  prosecutors  had  entered  were  de- 
clared to  be  forfeited:  and  I  was  dismissed  without  further 
impediment  from  the  bar. 

The  effect  which  this  incredible  reverse  produced  upon 
my  mind  it  is  impossible  to  express.  I  who  had  come  to 
that  bar  with  the  sentence  of  death  already  in  idea  ringing 
in  my  ears,  to  be  told  that  I  was  free  to  transport  myself 
whithersoever  I  pleased!  Was  it  for  this  that  I  had  broken 
through  so  many  locks  and  bolts,  and  the  adamantine  walls 
of  my  prison:  that  I  had  passed  so  many  anxious  days,  and 
sleepless  spectre-haunted  nights;  that  I  had  racked  my  in- 
vention for  expedients  of  evasion  and  concealment:  that 
mv  mind  had  been  roused  to  an  enerev  of  which  I  could 


352  CALEB  WILLIAMS 

scarcely  have  believed  it  capable;  that  my  existence  had 
been  enthralled  to  an  ever-living  torment,  such  as  I  could 
scarcely  have  supposed  it  in  man  to  endure?  Great  God!, 
what  is  man?  Is  he  thus  blind  to  the  future,  thus  totally  un- 
suspecting of  what  is  to  occur  in  the  next  moment  of  his 
existence!  I  have  somewhere  read,  that  Heaven  in  mercy 
hides  from  us  the  future  incidents  of  our  life.  My  own 
experience  does  not  well  accord  with  this  assertion.  In  this 
instance  at  least  I  should  have  been  saved  from  insupport- 
able labour  and  undescribable  anguish,  could  I  have  fore- 
seen the  catastrophe  of  this  most  interesting  transaction. 


CHAPTER  THIRTY-EIGHT 

IT  was  not  long  before  I  took  my  everlasting  leave  of 
this  detested  and  miserable  scene.  My  heart  was  for  the 
present  too  full  of  astonishment  and  exultation  in  my 
expected  deliverance,  to  admit  of  anxiety  about  the  future.  I 
withdrew  from  the  town ;  I  rambled  with  a  slow  and  thought- 
ful pace,  now  bursting  with  exclamation,  and  now  buried  in 
profound  and  undefinable  revery.  Accident  led  me  towards 
the  very  heath  which  at  first  sheltered  me,  when,  upon  a 
former  occasion,  I  broke  out  of  my  prison.  I  wandered 
among  its  cavities  and  its  valleys.  It  was  a  forlorn  and 
desolate  solitude.  I  continued  here  I  know  not  how  long. 
Night  at  length  overtook  me  unperceived,  and  I  prepared  to 
return  for  the  present  to  the  town  I  had  quitted. 

It  was  now  perfectly  dark,  when  two  men,  whom  I  had 
not  previously  observed,  sprung  upon  me  from  behind.  They 
seized  me  by  the  arms,  and  threw  me  upon  the  ground.  I 
had  no  time  for  resistance  or  recollection.  I  could,  how- 
ever, perceive  that  one  of  them  was  the  diabolical  Gines. 
They  blindfolded,  gagged  me,  and  hurried  me  I  knew  not 
whither.  As  we  passed  along  in  silence,  I  endeavoured  to 
conjecture  what  could  be  the  meaning  of  this  extraordinary 
violence.  I  was  strongly  impressed  with  the  idea,  that, 
after  the  event  of  this  morning,  the  most  severe  and  painful 
part  of  my  history  was  past ;  and,  strange  as  it  may  seem,  I 
could  not  persuade  myself  to  regard  with  alarm  this  unex- 
pected attack.  It  might,  however,  be  some  new  project,  sug- 
gested by  the  brutal  temper  and  unrelenting  animosity  of 
Gines. 

I  presently  found  that  we  were  returned  into  the  town  I 
had  just  quitted.    They  led  me  into  a  house,  and,  as  soon 

353 


354  ADVENTURES  OF 

as  they  had  taken  possession  of  a  room,  freed  me  from  the 
restraints  they  had  before  imposed.  Here  Gines  informed 
me,  with  a  malicious  grin,  that  no  harm  was  intended  me, 
and  therefore  I  should  show  more  sense  in  keeping  myself 
quiet.  I  perceived  that  we  were  in  an  inn;  I  overheard 
company  in  a  room  at  no  great  distance  from  us,  and  there- 
fore was  now  as  thoroughly  aware  as  he  could  be  that  there 
was  at  present  little  reason  to  stand  in  fear  of  any  species 
of  violence,  and  that  it  would  be  time  enough  to  resist  when 
they  attempted  to  conduct  me  from  the  inn  in  the  same  man- 
ner that  they  had  brought  me  into  it.  I  was  not  without 
some  curiosity  to  see  the  conclusion  that  was  to  follow  upon 
so  extraordinary  a  commencement. 

The  preliminaries  I  have  described  were  scarcely  com- 
pleted before  Mr.  Falkland  entered  the  room.  I  remember 
Collins,  when  he  first  communicated  to  me  the  particulars 
of  our  patron's  history,  observed  that  he  was  totally  unlike 
the  man  he  had  once  been.  I  had  no  means  of  ascertaining 
the  truth  of  that  observation.  But  it  was  strikingly  ap- 
plicable to  the  spectacle  which  now  presented  itself  to  my 
eyes,  though  when  I  last  beheld  this  unhappy  man  he  had 
been  a  victim  to  the  same  passions,  a  prey  to  the  same  un- 
dying remorse,  as  now.  Misery  was  at  that  time  inscribed 
in  legible  characters  upon  his  countenance.  But  now  he 
appeared  like  nothing  that  had  ever  been  visible  in  human 
shape.  His  visage  was  haggard,  emaciated,  and  fleshless. 
His  complexion  was  a  dun  and  tarnished  red,  the  colour  uni- 
form through  every  region  of  the  face,  and  suggested  the 
idea  of  its  being  burnt  and  parched  by  the  eternal  fire  that 
burned  within  him.  His  eyes  were  red,  quick,  wandering, 
full  of  suspicion  and  rage.  His  hair  was  neglected,  ragged, 
and  floating.  His  whole  figure  was  thin,  to  a  degree  that 
suggested  the  idea  rather  of  a  skeleton  than  a  person  ac- 
tually alive.  Life  seemed  hardly  to  be  the  capable  inhabi- 
tant of  so  wo-begone  and  ghostlike  a  figure.  The  taper  of 
wholesome  life  was  expired ;  but  passion,  and  fierceness,  and 
phrensy  were  able  for  the  present  to  supply  its  place. 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  355 

I  was  to  the  utmost  degree  astonished  and  shocked  at  the 
sight  of  him. — He  sternly  commanded  my  conductors  to 
leave  the  room. 

"Well,  sir,  I  have  this  day  successfully  exerted  myself  to 
save  your  life  from  the  gallows.  A  fortnight  ago  you  did 
what  you  were  able  to  bring  my  life  to  that  ignominious 
close. 

"Were  you  so  stupid  and  undistinguishing  as  not  to  know 
that  the  preservation  of  your  life  was  the  uniform  object  of 
my  exertions?  Did  not  I  maintain  you  in  prison?  Did 
not  I  endeavour  to  prevent  your  being  sent  thither?  Could 
you  mistake  the  bigoted  and  obstinate  conduct  of  Forester  in 
offering  a  hundred  guineas  for  your  apprehension  for  mine? 

"I  had  my  eye  upon  you  in  all  your  wanderings.  You 
have  taken  no  material  step  through  their  whole  course 
with  which  I  have  not  been  acquainted.  I  meditated  to 
do  you  good.  I  have  spilt  no  blood  but  that  of  Tyrrel :  that 
was  in  the  moment  of  passion;  and  it  has  been  the  subject 
of  my  uninterrupted  and  hourly  remorse.  I  have  con- 
nived at  no  man's  fate  but  that  of  the  Hawkinses:  they 
could  no  otherwise  have  been  saved  than  by  my  acknowl- 
edging myself  a  murderer.  The  rest  of  my  life  has  been  v 
spent  in  acts  of  benevolence. 

"I  meditated  to  do  you  good.  For  that  reason  I  was 
willing  to  prove  you.  You  pretended  to  act  towards  me  with 
consideration  and  forbearance.  If  you  had  persisted  in  that 
to  the  end,  I  would  yet  have  found  a  way  to  reward  you. 
I  left  you  to  your  own  discretion.  You  might  show  the  im- 
potent malignity  of  your  own  heart;  but  in  the  circum- 
stances in  which  you  were  then  placed,  I  knew  you  could 
not  hurt  me.  Your  forbearance  has  proved,  as  I  all  along 
suspected,  empty  and  treacherous.  You  have  attempted 
to  blast  my  reputation.  You  have  sought  to  disclose  the 
select  and  eternal  secret  of  my  soul.  Because  you  have 
done  that,  I  will  never  forgive  you.  I  will  remember  it  to 
my  latest  breath.  The  memory  shall  survive  me  when  my 
existence  is  no  more.     Do  you  think  you  are  out  of  the 


356  ADVENTURES  OF 

reach  of  my  power  because  a  court  of  justice  has  acquitted 
you?" 

While  Mr.  Falkland  was  speaking  a  sudden  distemper 
came  over  his  countenance,  his  whole  frame  was  shaken  by 
an  instantaneous  convulsion,  and  he  staggered  to  a  chair.  In 
about  three  minutes  he  recovered. 

"Yes,"  said  he,  "I  am  still  alive.  I  shall  live  for  days, 
and  months,  and  years;  the  power  that  made  me,  of  what- 
ever kind  it  be,  can  only  determine  how  long.  I  live 
the  guardian  of  my  reputation.  That,  and  to  endure  a  mis- 
ery such  as  man  never  endured,  are  the  only  ends  to  which 
I  live.  But  when  I  am  no  more,  my  fame  shall  still  sur- 
vive. My  character  shall  be  revered  as  spotless  and  unim- 
peachable by  all  posterity,  as  long  as  the  name  of  Falkland 
shall  be  repeated  in  the  most  distant  regions  of  the  many- 
peopled  globe." 

Having  said  this,  he  returned  to  the  discourse  which 
more  immediately  related  to  my  future  condition  and  hap- 
piness. 

"There  is  one  condition,"  said  he,  "upon  which  you  may 
obtain  some  mitigation  of  your  future  calamity.  It  is  for 
that  purpose  that  I  have  sent  for  you.  Listen  to  my  pro- 
posal with  deliberation  and  sobriety.  Remember,  that  the 
insanity  is  not  less  to  trifle  with  the  resolved  determination 
of  my  soul  than  it  would  be  to  pull  a  mountain  upon  your 
head  that  hung  trembling  upon  the  edge  of  the  mighty 
Apennine! 

"I  insist,  then,  upon  your  signing  a  paper,  declaring,  in 
the  most  solemn  manner,  that  I  am  innocent  of  murder,  and 
that  the  charge  you  alleged  at  the  office  in  Bow-street  is 
false,  malicious,  and  groundless.  Perhaps  you  may  scruple 
out  of  a  regard  to  truth.  Is  truth,  then,  entitled  to  adora- 
tion for  its  own  sake,  and  not  for  the  sake  of  the  happiness 
it  is  calculated  to  produce?  Will  a  reasonable  man  sacrifice 
to  barren  truth,  when  benevolence,  humanity,  and  every 
consideration  that  is  dear  to  the  human  heart  require  that 
it  should  be  superseded?     It  is  probable  that  I  may  never 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  357 

make  use  of  this  paper,  but  I  require  it,  as  the  only  practi- 
cable reparation  to  the  honour  you  have  assailed.  This  is 
what  I  had  to  propose.     I  expect  your  answer." 

"Sir,"  answered  I,  "I  have  heard  you  to  an  end,  and  I 
stand  in  need  of  no  deliberation  to  enable  me  to  answer  you 
in  the  negative.  You  took  me  up  a  raw  and  inexperienced 
boy,  capable  of  being  moulded  to  any  form  you  pleased. 
But  you  have  communicated  to  me  volumes  of  experience  in 
a  very  short  period.  I  am  no  longer  irresolute  and  pliable. 
What  is  the  power  you  retain  over  my  fate  I  am  unable  to 
discover.  You  may  destroy  me;  but  you  cannot  make  me 
tremble.  I  am  not  concerned  to  inquire  whether  what  I 
have  suffered  flowed  from  you  by  design  or  otherwise; 
whether  you  were  the  author  of  my  miseries,  or  only  con- 
nived at  them.  This  I  know,  that  I  have  suffered  too  ex- 
quisitely on  your  account  for  me  to  feel  the  least  remaining 
claim  on  your  part  to  my  making  any  voluntary  sacrifice. 

"You  say  that  benevolence  and  humanity  require  this 
sacrifice  of  me.  No;  it  would  only  be  a  sacrifice  to  your 
mad  and  misguided  love  of  fame, — to  that  passion  which 
has  been  the  source  of  all  your  miseries,  of  the  most  tragical 
calamities  to  others,  and  of  every  misfortune  that  has  hap- 
pened to  me.  I  have  no  forbearance  to  exercise  towards 
that  passion.  If  you  be  not  yet  cured  of  this  tremendous 
and  sanguinary  folly,  at  least  I  will  do  nothing  to  cherish 
it.  I  know  not  whether  from  my  youth  I  was  destined  for 
a  hero ;  but  I  may  thank  you  for  having  taught  me  a  lesson 
of  insurmountable  fortitude. 

"What  is  it  that  you  require  of  me?  that  I  should  sign 
away  my  own  reputation  for  the  better  maintaining  of  yours. 
Where  is  the  equality  of  that?  What  is  it  that  casts  me  at, 
such  an  immense  "distance  below  you  as  to  make  everything 
that  relates  to  me  wholly  unworthy  of  consideration?  You 
have  been  educated  in  the  prejudice  of  birth.  I  abhor  that* 
prejudice.  You  have  made  me  desperate,  and  I  utter  what 
that  desperation  suggests. 

"You  will  tell  me,  perhaps,  that  I  have  no  reputation 


358  ADVENTURES  OF 

to  lose ;  that,  while  you  are  esteemed  faultless  and  unblem- 
ished, I  am  universally  reputed  a  thief,  a  suborner,  and  a 
calumniator.  Be  it  so.  I  will  never  do  anything  to  coun- 
tenance those  imputations.  The  more  I  am  destitute  of 
the  esteem  of  mankind,  the  more  careful  I  will  be  to  pre- 
serve my  own.  I  will  never  from  fear  or  any  other  mis- 
taken motive  do  anything  of  which  I  ought  to  be  ashamed. 

"You  are  determined  to  be  for  ever  my  enemy.  I  have 
in  no  degree  deserved  this  eternal  abhorrence.  I  have  al- 
ways esteemed  and  pitied  you.  For  a  considerable  time  I 
rather  chose  to  expose  myself  to  every  kind  of  misfortune 
than  disclose  the  secret  that  was  so  dear  to  you.  I  was  not 
deterred  by  your  menaces — (what  could  you  make  me  suf- 
fer more  than  I  actually  suffered?) — but  by  the  humanity 
of  my  own  heart;  in  which,  and  not  in  means  of  violence, 
you  ought  to  have  reposed  your  confidence.  What  is  the 
mysterious  vengeance  that  you  can  yet  execute  against  me? 
You  menaced  me  before;  you  can  menace  no  worse  now. 
You  are  wearing  out  the  springs  of  terror.  Do  with  me  as 
you  please;  you  teach  me  to  hear  you  with  an  unshrinking 
and  desperate  firmness.  Recollect  yourself!  I  did  not  pro- 
ceed to  the  step  with  which  you  reproach  me  till  I  was  ap- 
parently urged  to  the  very  last  extremity.  I  had  suffered 
as  much  as  human  nature  can  suffer!  I  had  lived  in  the 
midst  of  eternal  alarm  and  unintermitted  watchfulness;  I 
had  twice  been  driven  to  purposes  of  suicide.  I  am  now 
sorry,  however,  that  the  step  of  which  you  complain  was 
ever  adopted.  But,  urged  to  exasperation  by  an  uninter- 
mitted rigour,  I  had  no  time  to  cool  or  to  deliberate.  Even 
at  present  I  cherish  no  vengeance  against  you.  All  that  is 
reasonable,  all  that  can  really  contribute  to  your  security, 
I  will  readily  concede;  but  I  will  not  be  driven  to  an  act 
repugnant  to  all  reason,  integrity,  and  justice." 

Mr.  Falkland  listened  to  me  with  astonishment  and  im- 
patience. He  had  entertained  no  previous  conception  of 
the  firmness  I  displayed.  Several  times  he  was  convulsed 
with  the  fury  that  laboured  in  his  breast.     Once  and  again 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  359 

he  betrayed  an  intention  to  interrupt ;  but  he  was  restrained 
by  the  collectedness  of  my  manner,  and  perhaps  by  a  de- 
sire to  be  acquainted  with  the  entire  state  of  my  mind.  _-*         ,^a 
Finding  that  I  had  concluded,  he  paused  for  a  moment;  his  '  \  '"^^w 
passion  seemed  gradually  to  enlarge,  till  it  was  no  longer         £*\¥fJ* 
capable  of  control.  I  ^.^w 

"It  is  well!"  said  he,  gnashing  his  teeth,  and  stamping  /  \^^n 
upon  the  ground.  "You  refuse  the  composition  I  offer!  I*  /  ,y 
have  no  power  to  persuade  you  to  compliance!  You  defy 
me!  At  least  I  have  a  power  respecting  you,  and  that  power 
I  will  exercise;  a  power  that  shall  grindjyou  intojttoms.  I 
condescend  to  no  more  expostulation.  I  know  what  I  am, 
and  what  I  can  be.  I  know  what  you  are,  and  what  fate 
is  reserved  for  you!" 

Saying  this  he  quitted  the  room. 

Such  were  the  particulars  of  this  memorable  scene.  The 
impression  it  has  left  upon  my  understanding  is  indelible. 
The  figure  and  appearance  of  Mr.  Falkland,  his  deathlike 
weakness  and  decay,  his  more  than  mortal  energy  and  rage, 
the  words  that  he  spoke,  the  motives  that  animated  him, 
produced  one  compounded  effect  upon  my  mind  that  noth- 
ing of  the  same  nature  could  ever  parallel.  The  idea  of  his 
misery  thrilled  through  my  frame.  How  weak  in  com- 
parison of  it  is  the  imaginary  hell  which  the  great  enemy 
of  mankind  is  represented  as  carrying  everywhere  about 
with  him! 

From  this  consideration,  my  mind  presently  turned  to 
the  menaces  he  had  vented  against  myself.  They  were  all 
mysterious  and  undefined.  He  had  talked  of  power,  but 
had  given  no  hint  from  which  I  could  collect  in  what  he  im- 
agined it  to  consist.  He  had  talked  of  misery,  but  had  not 
dropped  a  syllable  respecting  the  nature  of  the  misery  to  be 
inflicted. 

I  sat  still  for  some  time,  ruminating  on  these  thoughts. 
Neither  Mr.  Falkland  nor  any  other  person  appeared  to  dis- 
turb my  meditations.  I  rose,  went  out  of  the  room,  and 
from  the  inn  into  the  street.    No  one  offered  to  molest 


360  ADVENTURES  OF 

me.  It  was  strange!  What  was  the  nature  of  this  power, 
from  which  I  was  to  apprehend  so  much,  yet  which  seemed 
to  leave  me  at  perfect  liberty?  I  began  to  imagine  that  all  I 
had  heard  from  this  dreadful  adversary  was  mere  madness 
and  extravagance,  and  that  he  was  at  length  deprived  of 
the  use  of  reason,  which  had  long  served  him  only  as  a 
medium  of  torment.  Yet  was  it  likely  in  that  case  that  he 
should  be  able  to  employ  Gines  and  his  associate,  who  had 
just  been  his  instruments  of  violence  upon  my  person? 

I  proceeded  along  the  streets  with  considerable  caution. 
I  looked  before  me  and  behind  me,  as  well  as  the  darkness 
would  allow  me  to  do,  that  I  might  not  again  be  hunted  in 
sight  by  some  men  of  stratagem  and  violence  without  my 
perceiving  it.  I  went  out,  as  before,  beyond  the  limits  of 
the  town,  but  considered  the  streets,  the  houses,  and  the  in- 
habitants as  affording  some  degree  of  security.  I  was  still 
walking  with  my  mind  thus  full  of  suspicion  and  forecast, 
when  I  discovered  Thomas,  that  servant  of  Mr.  Falkland 
whom  I  have  already  more  than  once  had  occasion  to  men- 
tion. He  advanced  towards  me  with  an  air  so  blunt  and 
direct,  as  instantly  to  remove  from  me  the  idea  of  anything 
insidious  in  his  purpose;  besides  that  I  had  always  felt  the 
character  of  Thomas,  rustic  and  uncultivated  as  it  was,  to  be 
entitled  to  a  more  than  common  portion  of  esteem. 

"Thomas,"  said  I,  as  he  advanced,  "I  hope  you  are  willing 
to  give  me  joy,  that  I  am  at  length  delivered  from  the 
dreadful  danger  which  for  many  months  haunted  me  so 
unmercifully." 

"No,"  rejoined  Thomas,  roughly;  "I  be  not  at  all  willing. 
I  do  not  know  what  to  make  of  myself  in  this  affair.  While 
you  were  in  prison  in  that  miserable  fashion,  I  felt  all  at  one 
almost  as  if  I  loved  you:  and  now  that  that  is  over,  and 
you  are  turned  out  loose  in  the  world  to  do  your  worst,  my 
blood  rises  at  the  very  sight  of  you.  To  look  at  you,  you 
are  almost  the  very  lad  Williams  for  whom  I  could  with 
pleasure,  as  it  were,  have  laid  down  my  life;  and  yet,  be- 
hind that  smiling  face  there  lie  robbery,  and  lying,  and 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  361 

everything  that  is  ungrateful  and  murderous.  Your  last 
action  was  worse  than  all  the  rest.  How  could  you  find  in 
your  heart  to  revive  that  cruel  story  about  Mr.  Tyrrel, 
which  everybody  had  agreed,  out  of  regard  to  the  squire, 
never  to  mention  again,  and  of  which  I  know,  and  you  know, 
he  is  as  innocent  as  the  child  unborn?  There  are  causes  and 
reasons,  or  else  I  could  have  wished  from  the  bottom  of  my 
soul  never  to  have  set  eyes  on  you  again." 

"And  you  still  persist  in  your  hard  thoughts  of  me!" 

"Worse!  I  think  worse  of  you  than  ever!  Before,  I 
thought  you  as  bad  as  man  could  be.  I  wonder  from  my 
soul  what  you  are  to  do  next.  But  you  make  good  the  old 
saying,  'Needs  must  go,  that  the  devil  drives.'  " 

"And  so  there  is  never  to  be  an  end  of  my  misfortunes  U 
What  can  Mr.  Falkland  contrive  for  me  worse  than  the  ill  j 
opinion  and  enmity  of  all  mankind?" 

"Mr.  Falkland  contrive!  He  is  the  best  friend  you  have 
in  the  world,  though  you  are  the  basest  traitor  to  him. 
Poor  man!  it  makes  one's  heart  ache  to  look  at  him;  he  is 
the  very  image  of  grief.  And  it  is  not  clear  to  me  that 
it  is  not  all  owing  to  you.  At  least  you  have  given  the 
finishing  lift  to  the  misfortune  that  was  already  destroying 
him.  There  have  been  the  devil  and  all  to  pay  between 
him  and  Squire  Forester.  The  squire  is  right  raving  mad 
with  my  master,  for  having  outwitted  him  in  the  matter  of 
the  trial,  and  saved  your  life.  He  swears  that  you  shall  be 
taken  up  and  tried  all  over  again  at  the  next  assizes;  but 
my  master  is  resolute,  and  I  believe  will  carry  it  his  own 
way.  He  says,  indeed,  that  the  law  will  not  allow  Squire 
Forester  to  have  his  will  in  this.  To  see  him  ordering  every- 
thing for  your  benefit,  and  taking  all  your  maliciousness  as 
mild  and  innocent  as  a  lamb,  and  to  think  of  your  vile  pro- 
ceedings against  him,  is  a  sight  one  shall  not  see  again,  go 
all  the  world  over.  For  God's  sake,  repent  of  your  repro- 
bate doings,  and  make  what  little  reparation  is  in  your 
power!     Think  of  your  poor  soul,  before  you  awake,  as  to 


362  ADVENTURES  OF 

be  sure  one  of  these  days  you  will,  in  fire  and  brimstone 

everlasting!" 

Saying  this,  he  held  out  his  hand  and  took  hold  of  mine. 
The  action  seemed  strange;  but  I  at  first  thought  it  the  un- 
premeditated result  of  his  solemn  and  well-intended  ad- 
juration. I  felt,  however,  that  he  put  something  into  my 
hand.  The  next  moment  he  quitted  his  hold,  and  hastened 
from  me  with  the  swiftness  of  an  arrow.  What  he  had  thus 
« given  me  was  a  bank-note  of  twenty  pounds.  I  had  no 
doubt  that  he  had  been  charged  to  deliver  it  to  me  from 
Mr.  Falkland. 

What  was  I  to  infer?  what  light  did  it  throw  upon  the 
intentions  of  my  inexorable  persecutor?  his  animosity 
against  me  was  as  great  as  ever;  that  I  had  just  had  con- 
firmed to  me  from  his  mouth.  Yet  his  animosity  appeared  to 
be  still  tempered  with  the  remains  of  humanity.  He  pre- 
scribed to  it  a  line,  wide  enough  to  embrace  the  gratification 
of  his  views,  and  within  the  boundaries  of  that  line  it 
stopped.  But  this  discovery  carried  no  consolation  to  my 
mind.  I  knew  not  what  portion  of  calamity  I  was  fated  to 
endure,  before  his  jealousy  of  dishonour,  and  inordinate 
thirst  of  fame  would  deem  themselves  satisfied. 

Another  question  offered  itself.  Was  I  to  receive  the 
money  which  had  just  been  put  into  my  hands?  the  money 
of  a  man  who  had  inflicted  upon  me  injuries,  less  than  those 
which  he  had  entailed  upon  himself,  but  the  greatest  that 
one  man  can  inflict  upon  another?  who  had  blasted  my 
youth,  who  had  destroyed  my  peace,  who  had  held  me  up  to 
the  abhorrence  of  mankind,  and  rendered  me  an  outcast 
upon  the  face  of  the  earth?  who  had  forged  the  basest  and 
most  atrocious  falsehoods,  and  urged  them  with  a  serious- 
ness and  perseverance  which  produced  universal  belief?  who, 
an  hour  before,  had  vowed  against  me  inexorable  enmity, 
and  sworn  to  entail  upon  me  misery  without  end?  Would 
not  this  conduct  on  my  part  betray  a  base  and  abject  spirit, 
that  crouched  under  tyranny,  and  kissed  the  hands  that 
were  imbrued  in  my  blood? 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  363 

If  these  reasons  appeared  strong,  neither  was  the  other 
side  without  reasons  in  reply.  I  wanted  the  money:  not 
for  any  purpose  of  vice  or  superfluity,  but  for  those  pur- 
poses without  which  life  cannot  subsist.  Man  ought  to  be 
able,  wherever  placed,  to  find  for  himself  the  means  of 
existence;  but  I  was  to  open  a  new  scene  of  life,  to  remove 
to  some  distant  spot,  to  be  prepared  against  all  the  ill-will 
of  mankind,  and  the  unexplored  projects  of  hostility  of  a 
most  accomplished  foe.  The  actual  means  of  existence  are 
the  property  of  all.  What  should  hinder  me  from  taking 
that  of  which  I  was  really  in  want,  when,  in  taking  it,  I 
risked  no  vengeance,  and  perpetrated  no  violence?  The 
property  in  question  will  be  beneficial  to  me,  and  the  vol- 
untary surrender  of  it  is  accompanied  with  no  injury  to  its 
late  proprietor;  what  other  condition  can  be  necessary  to 
render  the  use  of  it  on  my  part  a  duty?  He  that  lately 
possessed  it  has  injured  me;  does  that  alter  its  value  as  a 
medium  of  exchange?  He  will  boast  perhaps  of  the  im- 
aginary obligation  he  has  conferred  on  me:  surely  to  shrink 
from  a  thing  in  itself  right  from  any  such  apprehension,  can 
be  the  result  only  of  pusillanimity  and  cowardice! 


CHAPTER  THIRTY-NINE 

INFLUENCED  by  these  reasonings,  I  determined  to 
retain  what  had  thus  been  put  into  my  hands.  My 
next  care  was  in  regard  to  the  scene  I  should  choose, 
as  the  retreat  of  that  life  which  I  had  just  saved  from  the 
grasp  of  the  executioner.  The  danger  to  which  I  was  ex- 
posed of  forcible  interruption  in  my  pursuits  was  probably, 
in  some  respects,  less  now  than  it  had  been  previously  to 
this  crisis.  Besides  that,  I  was  considerably  influenced  in 
this  deliberation  by  the  strong  loathing  I  conceived  for  the 
situation  in  which  I  had  lately  been  engaged.  I  knew  not 
in  what  mode  Mr.  Falkland  intended  to  exercise  his  ven- 
geance against  me;  but  I  was  seized  with  so  unconquerable 
an  aversion  to  disguise,  and  the  idea  of  spending  my  life 
in  personating  a  fictitious  character,  that  I  could  not,  for 
the  present  at  least,  reconcile  my  mind  to  anything  of 
that  nature.  The  same  kind  of  disgust  I  had  conceived 
for  the  metropolis,  where  I  had  spent  so  many  hours  of 
artifice,  sadness,  and  terror.  I  therefore  decided  in  favour 
of  the  project  which  had  formerly  proved  amusing  to  my 
imagination,  of  withdrawing  to  some  distant,  rural  scene, 
a  scene  of  calmness  and  obscurity,  where  for  a  few  years 
at  least,  perhaps  during  the  life  of  Mr.  Falkland,  I  might 
be  hidden  from  the  world,  recover  the  wounds  my  mind  had 
received  in  this  fatal  connexion,  methodise  and  improve  the 
experience  which  had  been  accumulated,  cultivate  the  facul- 
ties I  in  any  degree  possessed,  and  employ  the  intervals  of 
these  occupations  in  simple  industry,  and  the  intercourse  of 
guileless,  uneducated,  kind-intentioned  minds.  The  men- 
aces of  my  persecutor  seemed  to  forebode  the  inevitable 
interruption  of  this  system.  But  I  deemed  it  wise  to  put 
theee  menaces  out  of  my  consideration.     I  compared  them 

364 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  365 

to  death,  which  must  infallibly  overtake  us  we  know  not 
when;  but  the  possibility  of  whose  arrival  next  year,  next 
week,  to-morrow,  must  be  left  out  of  the  calculation  of  him 
who  would  enter  upon  any  important  or  well-concerted  un- 
dertaking. 

Such  were  the  ideas  that  determined  my  choice.  Thus 
did  my  youthful  mind  delineate  the  system  of  distant  years, 
even  when  the  threats  of  instant  calamity  still  sounded  in 
my  ears.  I  was  inured  to  the  apprehension  of  mischief, 
till  at  last  the  hoarse  roarings  of  the  beginning  tempest  had 
lost  their  power  of  annihilating  my  peace.  I  however 
thought  it  necessary,  while  I  was  most  palpably  within  the 
sphere  of  the  enemy,  to  exert  every  practicable  degree  of 
vigilance.  I  was  careful  not  to  incur  the  hazards  of  dark- 
ness and  solitude.  When  I  left  the  town  it  was  with  the 
stage-coach,  an  obvious  source  of  protection  against  glaring 
and  enormous  violence.  Meanwhile  I  found  myself  no 
more  exposed  to  molestation  in  my  progress,  than  the  man 
in  the  world  who  should  have  had  the  least  reason  for  ap- 
prehensions of  this  nature.  As  the  distance  increased,  I  re- 
laxed something  in  my  precaution,  though  still  awake  to  a 
sense  of  danger,  and  constantly  pursued  with  the  image 
of  my  foe.  I  fixed  upon  an  obscure  market-town  in  Wales 
as  the  chosen  seat  of  my  operations.  This  place  recom- 
mended itself  to  my  observation  as  I  was  wandering  in  quest 
of  an  abode.  It  was  clean,  cheerful,  and  of  great  simplicity 
of  appearance.  It  was  at  a  distance  from  any  public  and 
frequented  road,  and  had  nothing  which  could  deserve  the 
name  of  trade.  The  face  of  nature  around  it  was  agreeably 
diversified,  being  partly  wild  and  romantic,  and  partly  rich 
and  abundant  in  production. 

Here  I  solicited  employment  in  two  professions;  the  first, 
that  of  a  watchmaker,  in  which  though  the  instructions  I 
had  received  were  few,  they  were  eked  out  and  assisted 
by  a  mind  fruitful  in  mechanical  invention;  the  other,  that 
of  an  instructor  in  mathematics  and  its  practical  application, 
geography,     astronomy,     land-surveying,    and     navigation. 


3 66  ADVENTURES  OF 

Neither  of  these  was  a  very  copious  source  of  emolument 
in  the  obscure  retreat  I  had  chosen  for  myself;  but,  if  my 
receipts  were  slender,  my  disbursements  were  still  fewer. 
In  this  little  town  I  became  acquainted  with  the  vicar,  the 
apothecary,  the  lawyer,  and  the  rest  of  the  persons  who, 
time  out  of  mind,  had  been  regarded  as  the  top  gentry  of 
the  place.  Each  of  these  centred  in  himself  a  variety  of 
occupations.  There  was  little  in  the  appearance  of  the 
vicar  that  reminded  you  of  his  profession,  except  on  the 
recurring  Sunday.  At  other  times  he  condescended  with 
his  evangelical  hand  to  guide  the  plough,  or  to  drive  the 
cows  from  the  field  to  the  farm-yard  for  the  milking.  The 
apothecary  occasionally  officiated  as  a  barber,  and  the  law- 
yer was  the  village  schoolmaster. 

By  all  these  persons  I  was  received  with  kindness  and 
hospitality.  Among  people  thus  remote  from  the  bustle 
of  human  life  there  is  an  open  spirit  of  confidence,  by 
means  of  which  a  stranger  easily  finds  access  to  their  be- 
nevolence and  good-will.  My  manners  had  never  been 
greatly  debauched  from  the  simplicity  of  rural  life  by  the 
scenes  through  which  I  had  passed;  and  the  hardships  I 
had  endured  had  given  additional  mildness  to  my  character. 
In  the  theatre  upon  which  I  was  now  placed  I  had  no  rival. 
My  mechanical  occupation  had  hitherto  been  a  non-resi- 
dent; and  the  schoolmaster,  who  did  not  aspire  to  the  sub- 
lime heights  of  science  I  professed  to  communicate,  was 
willing  to  admit  me  as  a  partner  in  the  task  of  civilizing  the 
unpolished  manners  of  the  inhabitants.  For  the  parson, 
civilization  was  no  part  of  his  trade ;  his  business  was  with 
the  things  of  a  better  life,  not  with  the  carnal  concerns  of 
this  material  scene;  in  truth,  his  thoughts  were  principally 
occupied  with  his  oatmeal  and  his  cows. 

These,  however,  were  not  the  only  companions  which  this 
remote  retirement  afforded  me.  There  was  a  family  of  a 
very  different  description,  of  which  I  gradually  became  the 
chosen  intimate.  The  father  was  a  shrewd,  sensible,  ra- 
tional man,  but  who  had  turned  his  principal  attention  to 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  367 

subjects  of  agriculture.  His  wife  was  a  truly  admirable 
and  extraordinary  woman.  She  was  the  daughter  of  a 
Neapolitan  nobleman,  who,  after  having  visited,  and  made 
a  considerable  figure,  in  every  country  in  Europe,  had  at 
length  received  the  blow  of  fate  in  this  village.  He  had 
been  banished  his  country  upon  suspicion  of  religious  and 
political  heresy,  and  nis  estates  confiscated.  With  this  only 
child,  like  Prospero  in  the  Tempest,  he  had  withdrawn  him- 
self to  one  of  the  most  obscure  and  uncultivated  regions  of 
the  world.  Very  soon,  however,  after  his  arrival  in  Wales 
he  had  been  seized  with  a  malignant  fever,  which  carried  him 
off  in  three  days.  He  died  possessed  of  no  other  property 
than  a  few  jewels,  and  a  bill  of  credit,  to  no  considerable 
amount,  upon  an  English  banker. 

Here  then  was  the  infant  Laura,  left  in  a  foreign  country, 
and  without  a  single  friend.  The  father  of  her  present 
husband  was  led  by  motives  of  pure  humanity  to  seek  to 
mitigate  the  misfortunes  of  the  dying  Italian.  Though  a 
plain  uninstructed  man,  with  no  extraordinary  refinement 
of  intellect,  there  was  something  in  his  countenance  that 
determined  the  stranger,  in  his  present  forlorn  and  mel- 
ancholy situation,  to  make  him  his  executor,  and  the  guar- 
dian of  his  daughter.  The  Neapolitan  understood  enough 
of  English  to  explain  his  wishes  to  this  friendly  attendant 
of  his  deathbed.  As  his  circumstances  were  narrow,  the 
servants  of  the  stranger,  two  Italians,  a  male  and  a  female, 
were  sent  back  to  their  own  country  soon  after  the  death  of 
their  master. 

Laura  was  at  this  time  eight  years  of  age.  At  these 
tender  years  she  had  been  susceptible  of  little  direct  in- 
struction; and,  as  she  grew  up,  even  the  memory  of  her 
father  became,  from  year  to  year,  more  vague  and  indis- 
tinct in  her  mind.  But  there  was  something  she  derived 
from  her  father,  whether  along  with  the  life  he  bestowed, 
or  as  the  consequence  of  his  instruction  and  manners, 
which  no  time  could  efface.  Every  added  year  of  her 
life    contributed    to    develop    the    fund    of    her    accom- 


368  ADVENTURES  OF 

plishments.  She  read,  she  observed,  she  reflected.  With- 
out instructors,  she  taught  herself  to  draw,  to  sing,  and  to 
understand  the  more  polite  European  languages.  As  she 
had  no  society  in  this  remote  situation  but  that  of  peasants, 
she  had  no  idea  of  honour  or  superiority  to  be  derived  from 
her  acquisitions;  but  pursued  them  from  a  secret  taste,  and 
as  the  sources  of  personal  enjoyment. 

A  mutual  attachment  gradually  arose  between  her  and  the 
only  son  of  her  guardian.  His  father  led  him,  from  early 
youth,  to  the  labours  and  the  sports  of  the  field,  and  there 
was  little  congeniality  between  his  pursuits  and  those  of 
Laura.  But  this  was  a  defect  that  she  was  slow  to  dis- 
cover. She  had  never  been  accustomed  to  society  in  her 
chosen  amusements,  and  habit  at  that  time  even  made  her 
conceive,  that  they  were  indebted  to  solitude  for  an  addi- 
tional relish.  The  youthful  rustic  had  great  integrity,  great 
kindness  of  heart,  and  was  a  lad  of  excellent  sense.  He  was 
florid,  well-proportioned,  and  the  goodness  of  his  disposition 
made  his  manners  amiable.  Accomplishments  greater  than 
these  she  had  never  seen  in  human  form,  since  the  death  of 
her  father.  In  fact,  she  is  scarcely  to  be  considered  as  a 
sufferer  in  this  instance;  since,  in  her  forlorn  and  destitute 
condition,  it  is  little  probable,  when  we  consider  the  habits 
and  notions  that  now  prevail,  that  her  accomplishments,  un- 
assisted by  fortune,  would  have  procured  her  an  equal 
alliance  in  marriage. 

When  she  became  a  mother  her  heart  opened  to  a  new 
affection.  The  idea  now  presented  itself,  which  had  never 
occurred  before,  that  in  her  children,  at  least,  she  might 
find  the  partners  and  companions  of  her  favorite  employ- 
ments. She  w7as,  at  the  time  of  my  arrival,  mother  of 
four,  the  eldest  of  which  was  a  son.  To  all  of  them  she 
had  been  a  most  assiduous  instructor.  It  was  well  for  her 
perhaps  that  she  obtained  this  sphere  for  the  exercise  of 
her  mind.  It  came  just  at  the  period  when  the  charm  which 
human  life  derives  from  novelty  is  beginning  to  wear  off. 
It  gave  her  new  activity  and  animation.     It  is  perhaps  im- 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  369 

possible  that  the  refinements  of  which  human  nature  is 
capable  should  not.  after  a  time,  subside  into  sluggishness, 
if  they  be  not  aided  by  the  influence  of  society  and  affec- 
tion. 

The  son  of  the  Welsh  farmer  by  this  admirable  woman 
was  about  seventeen  years  of  age  at  the  time  of  my  settle- 
ment in  their  neighbourhood.  His  eldest  sister  was  one  year 
younger  than  himself.  The  whole  family  composed  a  group, 
with  which  a  lover  of  tranquillity  and  virtue  would  have 
delighted  to  associate  in  any  situation.  It  is  easy,  there- 
fore, to  conceive  how  much  I  rejoiced  in  their  friendship,  in 
this  distant  retirement,  and  suffering,  as  I  felt  myself,  from 
the  maltreatment  and  desertion  of  my  species.  The  ami- 
able Laura  had  a  wonderful  quickness  of  eye  and  rapidity 
of  apprehension;  but  this  feature  in  her  countenance  was 
subdued  by  a  sweetness  of  disposition,  such  as  I  never  in 
any  other  instance  saw  expressed  in  the  looks  of  a  human 
being.  She  soon  distinguished  me  by  her  kindness  and 
friendship:  for,  living  as  she  had  done,  though  familiar  with 
the  written  productions  of  a  cultivated  intellect,  she  had 
never  seen  the  thing  itself  realized  in  a  living  being,  except 
in  the  person  of  her  father.  She  delighted  to  converse  with 
me  upon  subjects  of  literature  and  taste,  and  she  eagerly 
invited  my  assistance  in  the  education  of  her  children.  The 
son,  though  young,  had  been  so  happily  improved  and  in- 
structed by  his  mother,  that  I  found  in  him  nearly  all  the 
most  essential  qualities  we  require  in  a  friend.  Engage- 
ment and  inclination  equally  led  me  to  pass  a  considerable 
part  of  every  day  in  this  agreeable  society.  Laura  treated 
me  as  if  I  had  been  one  of  the  family:  and  I  sometimes 
flattered  myself  that  I  might  one  day  become  such  in 
reality.  What  an  enviable  resting-place  for  me,  who  had 
known  nothing  but  calamity,  and  had  scarcely  dared  to 
look  for  sympathy  and  kindness  in  the  countenance  of  a 
human  being! 

The  sentiments  of  friendship  which  early  disclosed  them- 
selves between  me  and  the  members  of  this  amiable  family 


370  ADVENTURES  OF 

daily  became  stronger.  At  every  interview  the  confidence 
reposed  in  me  by  the  mother  increased.  While  our  familiar- 
ity gained  in  duration,  it  equally  gained  in  that  subtlety  of 
communication  by  which  it  seemed  to  shoot  forth  its  roots 
in  every  direction.  There  are  a  thousand  little  evanescent 
touches  in  the  development  of  a  growing  friendship,  that  are 
neither  thought  of  nor  would  be  understood  between  com- 
mon acquaintances.  I  honoured  and  esteemed  the  respecta- 
ble Laura  like  a  mother;  for,  though  the  difference  of  our 
ages  was  by  no  means  sufficient  to  authorize  the  sentiment, 
it  was  irresistibly  suggested  to  me  by  the  fact  of  her  al- 
ways being  presented  to  my  observation  under  the  maternal 
character.  Her  son  was  a  lad  of  great  understanding,  gen- 
erosity, and  feeling,  and  of  no  contemptible  acquirements; 
while  his  tender  years,  and  the  uncommon  excellence  of 
his  mother,  subtracted  something  from  the  independence  of 
his  judgment,  and  impressed  him  with  a  sort  of  religious 
deference  for  her  will.  In  the  eldest  daughter  I  beheld  the 
image  of  Laura ;  for  that  I  felt  attached  to  her  for  the  pres- 
ent; and  I  sometimes  conceived  it  probable  that  hereafter 
I  might  learn  to  love  her  for  her  own  sake. — Alas,  it  was 
thus  that  I  amused  myself  with  the  visions  of  distant  years, 
while  I  stood  in  reality  on  the  brink  of  the  precipice! 

It  will  perhaps  be  thought  strange  that  I  never  once 
communicated  the  particulars  of  my  story  to  this  amiable 
matron,  or  to  my  young  friend,  for  such  I  may  also  venture 
to  call  him,  her  son.  But,  in  truth,  I  abhorred  the  memory 
of  this  story;  I  placed  all  my  hopes  of  happiness  in  the 
prospect  of  its  being  consigned  to  oblivion.  I  fondly  flat- 
tered myself  that  such  would  be  the  event:  in  the  midst  of 
my  unlooked-for  happiness,  I  scarcely  recollected,  or,  recol- 
lecting, was  disposed  to  yield  but  a  small  degree  of  credit 
to,  the  menaces  of  Mr.  Falkland. 

One  day,  that  I  was  sitting  alone  with  the  accomplished 
Laura,  she  repeated  his  all-dreadful  name.  I  started  with 
astonishment,  amazed  that  a  woman  like  this,  who  knew 
nobody,  who  lived,  as  it  were,  alone  in  a  corner  of  the  uni- 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  371 

verse,  who  had  never  in  a  single  instance  entered  into  any 
fashionable  circle,  this  admirable  and  fascinating  hermit, 
should,  by  some  unaccountable  accident,  have  become  ac- 
quainted with  this  fatal  and  tremendous  name.  Astonish- 
ment, however,  was  not  my  only  sensation.  I  became  pale 
with  terror;  I  rose  from  mv  seat;  I  attemDted  to  sit  down 
again;  I  reeled  out  of  the  room,  and  hastened  to  bury  my- 
self in  solitude.  The  unexpectedness  of  the  incident  took 
from  me  all  precaution,  and  overwhelmed  my  faculties.  The 
penetrating  Laura  observed  my  behaviour;  but  nothing 
further  occurred  to  excite  her  attention  to  it  at  that  time; 
and  concluding  from  my  manner  that  inquiry  would  be 
painful  to  me,  she  humanely  suppressed  her  curiosity. 

I  afterward  found  that  Mr.  Falkland  had  been  known  to 
the  father  of  Laura;  that  he  had  been  acquainted  with  the 
story  of  Count  Malvesi,  and  with  a  number  of  other  trans- 
actions redounding  in  the  highest  degree  to  the  credit  of 
the  gallant  Englishman.  The  Neapolitan  had  left  letters  in 
which  these  transactions  were  recorded,  and  which  spoke 
of  Mr.  Falkland  in  the  highest  terms  of  panegyric.  Laura 
had  been  used  to  regard  every  little  relic  of  her  father  with 
a  sort  of  religious  veneration;  and,  by  this  accident,  the 
name  of  Mr.  Falkland  was  connected  in  her  mind  with 
the  sentiments  of  unbounded  esteem. 

The  scene  by  which  I  was  surrounded  was  perhaps  more 
grateful  to  me,  than  it  would  have  been  to  most  other  per- 
sons with  my  degree  of  intellectual  cultivation.  Sore  with 
persecution  and  distress,  and  bleeding  at  almost  every  vein, 
there  was  nothing  I  so  much  coveted  as  rest  and  tranquillity. 
It  seemed  as  if  my  faculties  were,  at  least  for  the  time,  ex- 
hausted by  the  late  preternatural  intensity  of  their  exer- 
tions, and  that  they  stood  indispensably  in  need  of  a  period 
of  comparative  suspension. 

This  was,  however,  but  a  temporary  feeling.  My  mind 
had  always  been  active,  and  I  wTas  probably  indebted  to  the 
sufferings  I  had  endured,  and  the  exquisite  and  increased 
susceptibility  they  produced,  for  new  energies.     I  soon  felt 


372  ADVENTURES  OF 

the  desire  of  some  additional  and  vigorous  pursuit.  In  this 
state  of  mind,  I  met  by  accident,  in  a  neglected  corner  of 
the  house  of  one  of  my  neighbours,  with  a  general  dictionary 
of  four  of  the  northern  languages.  This  incident  gave  a 
direction  to  my  thoughts.  In  my  youth  I  had  not  been  in- 
attentive to  language.  I  determined  to  attempt,  at  least 
for  my  own  use,  an  etymological  analysis  of  the  English 
language.  I  easily  perceived,  that  this  pursuit  had  one 
advantage  to  a  person  in  my  situation,  and  that  a  small 
number  of  books,  consulted  with  this  view,  would  afford 
employment  for  a  considerable  time.  I  procured  other 
dictionaries.  In  my  incidental  reading,  I  noted  the  man- 
ner in  which  words  were  used,  and  applied  these  remarks 
to  the  illustration  of  my  general  inquiry.  I  was  uninter- 
mitted  in  my  assiduity,  and  my  collections  promised  to  ac- 
cumulate. Thus  I  was  provided  with  sources  both  of  in- 
dustry and  recreation,  the  more  completely  to  divert  my 
thoughts  from  the  recollection  of  my  past  misfortunes. 

In  this  state,  so  grateful  to  my  feelings,  week  after  week 
glided  away  without  interruption  or  alarm.  The  situation 
in  which  I  was  now  placed  had  some  resemblance  to  that  in 
which  I  had  spent  my  earlier  years,  with  the  advantage  of 
a  more  attractive  society  and  a  riper  judgment.  I  began 
to  look  back  upon  the  intervening  period  as  upon  a  dis- 
tempered and  tormenting  dream;  or  rather,  perhaps,  my 
feelings  were  like  those  of  a  man  recovered  from  an  interval 
of  raging  delirium,  from  ideas  of  horror,  confusion,  flight, 
persecution,  agony,  and  despair!  When  I  recollected  what  I 
had  undergone,  it  was  not  without  satisfaction,  as  the  recol- 
lection of  a  thing  that  was  past;  every  day  augmented  my 
hope  that  it  was  never  to  return.  Surely  the  dark  and  ter- 
rific menaces  of  Mr.  Falkland  were  rather  the  perturbed 
suggestions  of  his  angry  mind,  than  the  final  result  of  a 
deliberate  and  digested  system!  How  happy  should  I  feel, 
beyond  the  ordinary  lot  of  man,  if,  after  the  terrors  I  had 
undergone,  I  should  now  find  myself  unexpectedly  restored 
to  the  immunities  of  a  human  being. 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  373 

While  I  was  thus  soothing  my  mind  with  fond  imagina- 
tions, it  happened  that  a  few  bricklayers  and  their  labour- 
ers came  over  from  a  distance  of  five  or  six  miles,  to  work 
upon  some  additions  to  one  of  the  better  sort  of  houses  in 
the  town,  which  had  changed  its  tenant.  No  incident  could 
be  more  trivial  than  this,  had  it  not  been  for  a  strange  coin-- 
cidence  of  time  between  this  circumstance,  and  a  change 
which  introduced  itself  into  my  situation.  This  first  mani- 
fested itself  in  a  sort  of  shyness  with  which  I  was  treated, 
first  by  one  person,  and  then  another,  of  my  new-formed 
acquaintance.  They  were  backward  to  enter  into  con- 
versation with  me,  and  answered  my  inquiries  with  an  awk- 
ward and  embarrassed  air.  When  they  met  me  in  the 
street  or  the  field,  their  countenances  contracted  a  cloud, 
and  they  endeavoured  to  shun  me.  My  scholars  quitted 
me  one  after  another ;  and  I  had  no  longer  any  employment 
in  my  mechanical  profession.  It  is  impossible  to  describe 
the  sensations  which  the  gradual  but  uninterrupted  progress 
of  this  revolution  produced  in  my  mind.  It  seemed  as  if  I 
had  some  contagious  disease,  from  which  every  man  shrunk 
with  alarm,  and  left  me  to  perish  unassisted  and  alone.  I 
asked  one  man  and  another  to  explain  to  me  the  meaning 
of  these  appearances;  but  every  one  avoided  the  task,  and 
answered  in  an  evasive  and  ambiguous  manner.  I  some- 
times supposed  that  it  was  a  delusion  of  the  imagination; 
till  the  repetition  of  the  sensation  brought  the  reality  too 
painfully  home  to  my  apprehension.  There  are  few  things 
that  give  a  greater  shock  to  the  mind  than  a  phenomenon 
in  the  conduct  of  our  fellowmen,  of  great  importance  to  our 
concerns,  and  for  which  we  are  unable  to  assign  any  plausi- 
ble reason.  At  times  I  was  half-inclined  to  believe  that  the 
change  was  not  in  other  men,  but  that  some  alienation  of 
my  own  understanding  generated  the  horrid  vision.  I  en- 
deavoured to  awaken  from  my  dream,  and  return  to  my 
former  state  of  enjoyment  and  happiness;  but  in  vain.  To 
the  same  consideration  it  may  be  ascribed,  that,  unac- 
quainted with  the  source  of  the  evil,  observing  its  perpetual 


374  ADVENTURES  OF 

increase,  and  finding  it,  so  far  as  I  could  perceive,  entirely 
arbitrary  in  its  nature.  I  was  unable  to  ascertain  its  limits, 
or  the  degree  in  which  it  would  finally  overwhelm  me. 

In  the  midst,  however,  of  the  wonderful  and  seemingly 
inexplicable  nature  of  this  scene,  there  was  one  idea  that 
instantly  obtruded  itself,  and  that  I  could  never  after  banish 
from  my  mind.  It  is  Falkland!  In  vain  I  struggled  against 
the  seeming  improbability  of  the  supposition.  In  vain,  I 
said,  '"Mr.  Falkland,  wise  as  he  is,  and  pregnant  in  re- 
sources, acts  by  human,  not  by  supernatural  means.  He 
may  overtake  me  by  surprise,  and  in  a  manner  of  which 
I  had  no  previous  expectation:  but  he  cannot  produce  a 
great  and  notorious  effect  without  some  visible  agency, 
however  difficult  it  may  be  to  trace  that  agency  to  its  ab- 
solute author.  He  cannot,  like  those  invisible  personages 
who  are  supposed  from  time  to  time  to  interfere  in  human 
affairs,  ride  in  the  whirlwind,  shroud  himself  in  clouds  and 
impenetrable  darkness,  and  scatter  destruction  upon  the 
earth  from  his  secret  habitation."  Thus  it  was  that  I  bribed 
my  imagination,  and  endeavoured  to  persuade  myself  that 
my  present  unhappiness  originated  in  a  different  source 
from  my  former.  All  evils  appeared  trivial  to  me,  in  com- 
parison with  the  recollection  and  perpetuation  of  my  parent 
misfortune.  I  felt  like  a  man  distracted,  by  the  incoherence 
of  my  ideas  to  my  present  situation,  excluding  from  it  the 
machinations  of  Mr.  Falkland,  on  the  one  hand;  and  on 
the  other,  by  the  horror  I  conceived  at  the  bare  possibility 
of  again  encountering  his  animosity,  after  a  suspension  of 
many  weeks,  a  suspension  as  I  had  hoped  for  ever.  An  in- 
terval like  this  was  an  age  to  a  person  in  the  calamitous 
situation  I  had  so  long  experienced.  But,  in  spite  of  my 
efforts,  I  could  not  banish  from  my  mind  the  dreadful  idea. 
My  original  conceptions  of  the  genius  and  perseverance  of 
Mr.  Falkland  had  been  such,  that  I  could  with  difficulty 
think  anything  impossible  to  him.  I  knew  not  how  to  set 
up  my  own  opinions  of  material  causes  and  the  powers  of 
the  human  mind,  as  the  limits  of  existence.     Mr.   Falk- 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  375 

land  had  always  been  to  my  imagination  an  object  of  won- 
der, and  that  which  excites  our  wonder  we  scarcely  suppose 
ourselves  competent  to  analyze. 

It  may  well  be  conceived  that  one  of  the  first  persons  to 
whom  I  thought  of  applying  for  an  explanation  of  this 
dreadful  mystery  was  the  accomplished  Laura.  My  disap- 
pointment here  cut  me  to  the  heart.  I  was  not  prepared 
for  it.  I  recollected  the  ingenuousness  of  her  nature,  the 
frankness  of  her  manners,  the  partiality  with  which  she 
had  honoured  me.  If  I  were  mortified  with  the  coldness, 
the  ruggedness,  and  the  cruel  mistake  of  principles  with 
which  the  village  inhabitants  repelled  my  inquiries,  the 
mortification  I  suffered  only  drove  me  more  impetuously 
to  seek  the  cure  of  my  griefs  from  this  object  of  my  admi- 
ration. "In  Laura,"  said  I,  "I  am  secure  from  these  vulgar 
prejudices.  I  confide  in  her  justice.  I  am  sure  she  will 
not  cast  me  off  unheard,  nor  without  strictly  examining 
a  question  on  all  sides,  in  which  everything  that  is  valuable 
to  a  person  she  once  esteemed  may  be  involved." 

Thus  encouraging  myself,  I  turned  my  steps  to  the  place 
of  her  residence.  As  I  passed  along  I  called  up  all  my  recol- 
lections, I  summoned  my  faculties.  "I  may  be  made  mis- 
erable," said  I,  "but  it  shall  not  be  for  want  of  any  exertion 
of  mine,  that  promises  to  lead  to  happiness.  I  will  be  clear, 
collected,  simple  in  narrative,  ingenuous  in  communication. 
I  will  leave  nothing  unsaid  that  the  case  may  require.  I 
will  not  volunteer  anything  that  relates  to  my  former 
transactions  with  Mr.  Falkland ;  but,  if  I  find  that  my  pres- 
ent calamity  is  connected  with  those  transactions,  I  will 
not  fear  but  that  by  an  honest  explanation  I  shall  remove 
it." 

I  knocked  at  the  door.  A  servant  appeared,  and  told  me 
that  her  mistress  hoped  I  would  excuse  her;  she  must  really 
beg  to  dispense  with  my  visit. 

I  was  thunderstruck.  I  was  rooted  to  the  spot.  I  had 
been  carefully  preparing  my  mind  for  everything  that  I 
supposed  likely  to  happen,  but  this  event  had  not  entered 


376  ADVENTURES  OF 

into  my  calculations.     I  roused  myself  in  a  partial  degree, 
and  walked  away  without  uttering  a  word. 

I  had  not  gone  far  before  I  perceived  one  of  the  work- 
men following  me,  who  put  into  my  hands  a  billet.  The 
contents  were  these: — 

"Mr.  Williams: 
"Let  me  see  you  no  more.    I  have  a  right  at  least  to  expect 
your  compliance  with  this  requisition;  and,  upon  that  con- 
dition, I  pardon  the  enormous  impropriety  and  guilt  with 
which  you  have  conducted  yourself  to  me  and  my  family. 

"Laura  Denison." 

The  sensations  with  which  I  read  these  few  lines  are  in- 
describable. I  found  in  them  a  dreadful  confirmation  of 
the  calamity  that  on  all  sides  invaded  me.  But  what  I  felt 
most  was  the  unmoved  coldness  with  which  they  appeared 
to  be  written.  This  coldness  from  Laura,  my  comforter,  my 
friend,  my  mother!  To  dismiss,  to  cast  me  off  for  ever, 
without  one  thought  of  compunction! 

I  determined,  however,  in  spite  of  her  requisition,  and  in 
spite  of  her  coldness,  to  have  an  explanation  with  her.  I 
did  not  despair  of  conquering  the  antipathy  she  harboured. 
I  did  not  fear  that  I  would  rouse  her  from  the  vulgar  and 
unworthy  conception,  of  condemning  a  man,  in  points  the 
most  material  to  his  happiness,  without  stating  the  accusa- 
tions that  are  urged  against  him,  and  without  hearing  him 
in  reply. 

Though  I  had  no  doubt,  by  means  of  resolution,  of  gain- 
ing access  to  her  in  her  house,  yet  I  preferred  taking  her 
unprepared,  and  not  warmed  against  me  by  any  pre- 
vious contention.  Accordingly,  the  next  morning,  at  the 
time  she  usually  devoted  to  half  an  hour's  air  and  exercise, 
I  hastened  to  her  garden,  leaped  the  paling,  and  concealed 
myself  in  an  arbour.  Presently  I  saw,  from  my  retreat,  the 
younger  part  of  the  family  strolling  through  the  garden, 
and  from  thence  into  the  fields;  but  it  was  not  my  business 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  377 

to  be  seen  by  them.  I  looked  after  them,  however,  with 
earnestness,  unobserved ;  and  I  could  not  help  asking  myself, 
with  a  deep  and  heartfelt  sigh,  whether  it  were  possible  that 
I  saw  them  now  for  the  last  time? 

They  had  not  advanced  far  into  the  fields  before  their 
!  mother  made  her  appearance.  I  observed  in  her  her  usual 
serenity  and  sweetness  of  countenance.  I  could  feel  my 
heart  knocking  against  my  ribs.  My  whole  frame  was  in 
a  tumult.  I  stole  out  of  the  arbour;  and,  as  I  advanced 
nearer,  my  pace  became  quickened. 

'Tor  God's  sake,  madam,"  exclaimed  I,  "give  me  a  hear- 
ing!    Do  not  avoid  me!" 

She  stood  still.  "No,  sir,"  she  replied,  "I  shall  not  avoid 
you.  I  wished  you  to  dispense  with  this  meeting ;  but  since 
I  cannot  obtain  that — I  am  conscious  of  no  wrong;  and 
therefore,  though  the  meeting  gives  me  pain,  it  inspires  me 
with  no  fear." 

"Oh,  madam,"  answered  I,  "my  friend!  the  object  of  all 
my  reverence!  whom  I  once  ventured  to  call  my  mother! 
can  you  wish  not  to  hear  me?  Can  you  have  no  anxiety 
for  my  justification,  whatever  may  be  the  unfavourable  im- 
pression you  may  have  received  against  me?" 

"Not  an  atom.  I  have  neither  wish  nor  inclination  to 
hear  you.  That  tale  which,  in  its  plain  and  unadorned 
state,  is  destructive  of  the  character  of  him  to  whom  it  re- 
flates, no  colouring  can  make  an  honest  one." 

"Good  God!  Can  you  think  of  condemning  a  man  when 
you  have  heard  only  one  side  of  his  story?" 

"Indeed  I  can,"  replied  she  with  dignity.  "The  maxim 
of  hearing  both  sides  may  be  very  well  in  some  cases;  but 
it  would  be  ridiculous  to  suppose  that  there  are  not  cases, 
that,  at  the  first  mention,  are  too  clear  to  admit  the  shadow 
of  a  doubt.  By  a  well-concerted  defence  you  may  give  me 
new  reasons  to  admire  your  abilities;  but  I  am  acquainted 
with  them  already.  I  can  admire  your  abilities,  without 
tolerating  your  character." 

"Madam!     Amiable,   exemplary   Laura!    whom,   in   the 


378  ADVENTURES  OF 

midst  of  all  your  harshness  and  inflexibility,  I  honour!  I 
conjure  you,  by  everything  that  is  sacred,  to  tell  me  what 
it  is  that  has  filled  you  with  this  sudden  aversion  to  me." 

"No,  sir;  that  you  shall  never  obtain  from  me.  I  have 
nothing  to  say  to  you.  I  stand  still  and  hear  you ;  because 
virtue  disdains  to  appear  abashed  and  confounded  in  the 
presence  of  vice.  Your  conduct  even  at  this  moment,  in  my 
opinion,  condemns  you.  True  virtue  refuses  the  drudgery 
of  explanation  and  apology  True  virtue  shines  by  its  own 
light,  and  needs  no  art  to  set  it  off.  You  have  the  first 
principles  of  morality  as  yet  to  learn." 

"And  can  you  imagine  that  the  most  upright  conduct 
is  always  superior  to  the  danger  of  ambiguity?" 

"Exactly  so.  Virtue,  sir,  consists  in  actionsa _and_not_  in 
.words.  The  good  man  and  trie  bad  are  characters  precisely 
"opposite,  not  characters  distinguished  from  each  other  by 
imperceptible  shades.  The  Providence  that  rules  us  all  has 
not  permitted  us  to  be  left  without  a  clew  in  the  most  im- 
portant of  all  questions.  Eloquence  may  seek  to  confound 
it;  but  it  shall  be  my  care  to  avoid  its  deceptive  influence. 
I  do  not  wish  to  have  my  understanding  perverted,  and  all ! 
the  differences  of  things  concealed  from  my  apprehension." 

"Madam,  madam!  it  would  be  impossible  for  you  to  hold 
this  language,  if  you  had  not  always  lived  in  this  obscure 
retreat,  if  you  had  ever  been  conversant  with  the  passions 
and  institutions  of  men." 

"It  may  be  so.     And,  if  that  be  the  case,  I  have  great 
reason  to  be  thankful  to  my  God,  who  has  thus  enabled  me 
v^  to  preserve  the  innocence  of  my  heart,  and  the  integrity  of 

^    ■  \  my  understanding." 

^         "Can  you  believe,  then,  that  ignorance  is  the  only,  or  the 
\.     safest,  preservative  of  integrity?" 

"Sir,  I  told  you  at  first,  and  I  repeat  to  you  again,  that 
all  your  declamation  is  in  vain.     I  wish  you  would  have  ; 
saved  me  and  yourself  that  pain  which  is  the  only  thing 
that  can  possibly  result  from  it.     But  let  us  suppose  that 
virtue  could  ever  be  the  equivocal  thing  you  would  have 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  379 

me  believe.  Is  it  possible,  if  you  had  been  honest,  that 
you  would  not  have  acquainted  me  with  your  story?  Is  it 
possible  that  you  would  have  left  me  to  have  been  informed 
of  it  by  a  mere  accident,  and  with  all  the  shocking  aggrava- 
tions you  well  knew  that  accident  would  give  it?  Is  it  pos- 
sible you  should  have  violated  the  most  sacred  of  all  trusts, 
and  have  led  me  unknowingly  to  admit  to  the  intercourse 
of  my  children  a  character,  which,  if,  as  you  pretend,  it  is 
substantially  honest,  you  cannot  deny  to  be  blasted  and 
branded  in  the  face  of  this  whole  world?  Go,  sir;  I  despise 
you.  You  are  a  monster  and  not  a  man.  I  cannot  tell 
whether  my  personal  situation  misleads  me;  but,  to  my 
thinking,  this  last  action  of  yours  is  worse  than  all  the  rest. 
Nature  has  constituted  me  the  protector  of  my  children.  I 
shall  always  remember  and  resent  the  indelible  injury  you 
have  done  them.  You  have  wounded  me  to  the  very  heart, 
and  have  taught  me  to  what  a  pitch  the  villany  of  man  can 
extend." 

"Madam,  I  can  be  silent  no  longer.  I  see  that  you  have 
by  some  means  come  to  a  hearing  of  the  story  of  Mr.  Falk- 
land." 

"I  have.  I  am  astonished  you  have  the  effrontery  to 
pronounce  his  name.  That  name  has  been  a  denomina- 
tion, as  far  back  as  my  memory  can  reach,  for  the  most  ex- 
ialted  of  mortals,  the  wisest  and  most  generous  of  men." 

"Madam,  I  owe  it  to  myself  to  see  you  right  on  this  sub- 
ject.    Mr.  Falkland—" 

"Mr.  Williams,  I  see  my  children  returning  from  the  fields, 
and  coming  this  way.  The  basest  action  you  ever  did  was 
the  obtruding  yourself  upon  them  as  an  instructer.  I  insist 
that  you  see  them  no  more.  I  command  you  to  be  silent.  I 
command  you  to  withdraw.  If  you  persist  in  your  absurd 
resolution  of  expostulating  with  me,  you  must  take  some 
other  time." 

I  could  continue  no  longer.  I  was  in  a  manner  heart- 
broken through  the  whole  of  this  dialogue.  I  could  not 
think  of  protracting  the  pain  of   this  admirable  woman, 


380  ADVENTURES  OF 

upon  whom,  though  I  was  innocent  of  the  crimes  she  im- 
puted to  me,  I  had  inflicted  so  much  pain  already.  I  yielded 
to  the  imperiousness  of  her  commands,  and  withdrew. 

I  hastened,  without  knowing  why,  from  the  presence  of 
Laura  to  my  own  habitation.  Upon  entering  the  house,  an 
apartment  of  which  I  occupied,  I  found  it  totally  deserted 
of  its  usual  inhabitants.  The  woman  and  her  children 
were  gone  to  enjoy  the  freshness  of  the  breeze.  The  hus- 
band was  engaged  in  his  usual  out-door  occupation.  The 
doors  of  persons  of  the  lower  order  in  this  part  of  the  coun- 
try are  secured  in  the  daytime  only  with  a  latch.  I  entered, 
and  went  into  the  kitchen  of  the  family.  Here,  as  I  looked 
round,  my  eyes  accidentally  glanced  upon  a  paper  lying  in 
one  corner,  which,  by  some  association  I  was  unable  to  ex- 
plain, roused  in  me  a  strong  sensation  of  suspicion  and 
curiosity.  I  eagerly  went  towards  it,  caught  it  up,  and 
found  it  to  be  the  very  paper  of  the  wonderful  and  sur- 
prising history  of  Caleb  Williams,  the  discovery  of 
which,  towards  the  close  of  my  residence  in  London,  had 
produced  in  me  such  inexpressible  anguish. 

This  encounter  at  once  cleared  up  all  the  mystery  that 
hung  upon  my  late  transactions.  Abhorred  and  intolerable 
certainty  succeeded  to  the  doubts  which  had  haunted  my 
mind.  It  struck  me  with  the  rapidity  of  lightning.  I  felt  a 
sudden  torpor  and  sickness  that  pervaded  every  fibre  of  my 
frame. 

Was  there  no  hope  that  remained  for  me?  Was  acquittal 
useless?  Was  there  no  period,  past  or  in  prospect,  that  could 
give  relief  to  my  sufferings?  Was  the  odious  and  atrocious 
falsehood  that  had  been  invented  against  me  to  follow  me 
wherever  I  went,  to  strip  me  of  character,  to  deprive  me  of 
the  sympathy  and  good-will  of  mankind,  to  wrest  from  me 
the  very  bread  by  which  life  must  be  sustained? 

For  the  space  perhaps  of  half  an  hour  the  agony  I  felt 
from  this  termination  to  my  tranquillity,  and  the  expecta- 
tion it  excited  of  the  enmity  which  would  follow  me  through 
every  retreat,  was  such  as  to  bereave  me  of  all  consistent 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  381 

thinking,  much  more  of  the  power  of  coming  to  any  resolu- 
tion. As  soon  as  this  giddiness  and  horror  of  the  mind  sub- 
sided, and  the  deadly  calm  that  invaded  my  faculties  was 
no  more,  one  stiff  and  master  gale  gained  the  ascendency, 
and  drove  me  to  an  instant  desertion  of  this  late  cherished 
retreat.  I  had  no  patience  to  enter  into  further  remon- 
strance and  explanation  with  the  inhabitants  of  my  present 
residence.  I  believed  that  it  was  in  vain  to  hope  to  recover 
the  favourable  prepossession  and  tranquillity  I  had  lately 
enjoyed.  In  encountering  the  prejudices  that  were  thus 
armed  against  me,  I  should  have  to  deal  with  a  variety  of 
dispositions;  and  though  I  might  succeed  with  some,  I  could 
not  expect  to  succeed  with  all.  I  had  seen  too  much  of  the 
reign  of  triumphant  falsehood,  to  have  that  sanguine  confi- 
dence in  the  effects  of  my  innocence  which  would  have  sug- 
gested itself  to  the  mind  of  any  other  person  of  my  propen- 
sities and  my  age.  The  recent  instance  which  had  occurred 
in  my  conversation  with  Laura  might  well  contribute  to  dis- 
courage me.  I  could  not  endure  the  thought  of  opposing 
the  venom  that  was  thus  scattered  against  me,  in  detail 
and  through  its  minuter  particles.  If  ever  it  should  be 
necessary  to  encounter  it,  if  I  were  pursued  like  a  wild 
beast,  till  I  could  no  longer  avoid  turning  upon  my  hunters, 
I  would  then  turn  upon  the  true  author  of  this  unprincipled 
attack;  I  would  encounter  the  calumny  in  its  stronghold; 
I  would  rouse  myself  to  an  exertion  hitherto  unessayed;  and, 
by  the  firmness,  intrepidity,  and  unalterable  constancy  I 
should  display,  would  yet  compel  mankind  to  believe  Mr. 
Falkland  a  suborner  and  a  murderer! 


CHAPTER  FORTY 


1  HASTEN  to  the  conclusion  of  my  melancholy  story. 
I  began  to  write  soon  after  the  period  to  which  I  have 
now  conducted  it.  This  was  another  resource  that  my 
mind,  ever  eager  in  inventing  means  to  escape  from  my 
misery,  suggested.  In  my  haste  to  withdraw  myself  from 
the  retreat  in  Wales,  where  first  the  certainty  of  Mr.  Falk- 
land's menaces  was  confirmed  to  me,  I  left  behind  me  the 
apparatus  of  my  etymological  inquiries,  and  the  papers  I 
had  written  upon  the  subject.  I  have  never  been  able  to 
persuade  myself  to  resume  this  pursuit.  It  is  always  dis- 
couraging to  begin  over  again  a  laborious  task,  and  exert 
one's  self  to  recover  a  position  we  had  already  occupied.  I 
knew  not  how  soon  or  how  abruptly  I  might  be  driven 
from  any  new  situation;  the  appendages  of  the  study  in 
which  I  had  engaged  were  too  cumbrous  for  this  state  of 
dependence  and  uncertainty;  they  only  served  to  give  new 
sharpness  to  the  enmity  of  my  foe,  and  new  poignancy 
to  my  hourly-renewing  distress. 

But  what  was  of   greatest   importance,   and   made   the 
1  deepest  impression  upon  my  mind,  was  my  separation  from 
I  the  family  of  Laura.     Fool  that  I  was,  to  imagine  that 
there  was  any  room  for  me  in  the  abodes  of  friendship  and 
/  tranquillity!     It  was  now  first  that  I  felt,  with  the  most 
intolerable  acuteness,  how  completely  I  was  cut  off  from  the 
whole  human  species.    Other  connexions  I  had  gained,  com- 
paratively without  interest;  and  I  saw  them  dissolved  with- 
1  out  the  consummation  of  agony.    I  had  never  experienced 
\the  purest  refinements  of  friendship  but  in  two  instances, 
What  of  Collins,  and  this  of  the  family  of  Laura.     Solitude, 
(separation,   banishment!     These   are   words    often    in   the 
mouths  of  human  beings;  but  few  men  except  myself  have 

382 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  383 

felt  the  full  latitude  of  their  meaning.  The  pride  of  phi- 
losophy has  taught  us  to  treat  man  as  an  individual.  He 
is  no  such  thing.  He  holds  necessarily,  indispensably,  to 
his  species.  He  is  like  those  twin-births  that  have  two  heads 
indeed,  and  four  hands;  but  if  you  attempt  to  detach  them 
from  each  other,  they  are  inevitably  subjected  to  miserable 
and  lingering  destruction. 

It  was  this  circumstance,  more  than  all  the  rest,  that 
gradually  gorged  my  heart  with  abhorrence  of  Mr.  Falk- 
land. I  could  not  think  of  his  name  but  with  a  sickness 
and  a  loathing,  that  seemed  more  than  human.  It  was  by 
his  means  that  I  suffered  the  loss  of  one  consolation  after 
another,  of  everything  that  was  happiness,  or  that  had  the 
resemblance  of  happiness. 

The  writing  of  these  memoirs  served  me  as  a  source  of 
avocation  for  several  years.  For  some  time  I  had  a  mel- 
ancholy satisfaction  in  it.  I  was  better  pleased  to  retrace 
the  particulars  of  calamities  that  had  formerly  afflicted  me, 
than  to  look  forward,  as  at  other  times  I  was  too  apt  to  do, 
to  those  by  which  I  might  hereafter  be  overtaken.  I  con- 
ceived that  my  story,  faithfully  digested,  would  carry  in  it 
an  impression  of  truth  that  few  men  would  be  able  to  re- 
sist; or,  at  worst,  that,  by  leaving  it  behind  me  when  I 
should  no  longer  continue  to  exist,  posterity  might  be  in- 
duced to  do  me  justice,  and,  seeing  in  my  example  what  sort 
of  evils  are  entailed  upon  mankind  by  society  as  it  is  at 
present  constituted,  might  be  inclined  to  turn  their  atten- 
tion upon  the  fountain  from  which  such  bitter  waters  have 
been  accustomed  to  flow.  But  these  motives  have  di- 
minished in  their  influence.  I  have  contracted  a  disgust  for 
life  and  all  its  appendages.  Writing,  which  was  at  first  a 
pleasure,  is  changed  into  a  burden.  I  shall  compress  into 
a  small  compass  what  remains  to  be  told. 

I  discovered,  not  long  after  the  period  of  which  I  am 
speaking,  the  precise  cause  of  the  reverse  I  had  experi- 
enced in  my  residence  in  Wales,  and,  included  in  that  cause, 
what  it  was  I  had  to  look  for  in  my  future  adventures. 


384  ADVENTURES  OF 

Mr.  Falkland  had  taken  the  infernal  Gines  into  his  pay,  a 
man  critically  qualified  for  the  service  in  which  he  was  now 
engaged,  by  the  unfeeling  brutality  of  his  temper,  by  his 
habits  of  mind  at  once  audacious  and  artful,  and  by  the 
peculiar  animosity  and  vengeance  he  had  conceived  against 
me.  The  employment  to  which  this  man  was  hired  was 
that  of  following  me  from  place  to  place,  blasting  my  repu- 
tation, and  preventing  me  from  the  chance,  by  continuing 
long  in  one  residence,  of  acquiring  a  character  for  integrity, 
that  should  give  new  weight  to  any  accusation  I  might 
at  a  future  time  be  induced  to  prefer.  He  had  come  to 
the  seat  of  my  residence  with  the  bricklayers  and  labourers 
I  have  mentioned;  and,  while  he  took  care  to  keep  out  of 
sight  so  far  as  related  to  me,  was  industrious  in  disseminat- 
ing that  which,  in  the  eye  of  the  world,  seemed  to  amount 
to  a  demonstration  of  the  profligacy  and  detestableness  of 
my  character.  It  was  no  doubt  from  him  that  the  detested 
scroll  had  been  procured,  which  I  had  found  in  my  habita- 
tion immediately  prior  to  my  quitting  it.  In  all  this  Mr. 
Falkland,  reasoning  upon  his  principles,  was  only  employ- 
ing a  necessary  precaution.  There  was  something  in  the 
temper  of  his  mind  that  impressed  him  with  aversion  to  the 
idea  of  violently  putting  an  end  to  my  existence;  at  the 
same  time  that  unfortunately  he  could  never  deem  him- 
self sufficiently  secured  against  my  recrimination,  so  long 
as  I  remained  alive.  As  to  the  fact  of  Gines  being  re- 
tained by  him  for  this  tremendous  purpose,  he  by  no  means 
desired  that  it  should  become  generally  known;  but  neither 
did  he  look  upon  the  possibility  of  its  being  known  with 
terror.  It  was  already  too  notorious  for  his  wishes  that  I 
had  advanced  the  most  odious  charges  against  him.  If  he 
regarded  me  with  abhorrence  as  the  adversary  of  his  fame, 
those  persons  who  had  had  occasion  to  be  in  any  degree  ac- 
quainted with  our  history,  did  not  entertain  less  abhor- 
rence against  me  for  my  own  sake.  If  they  should  at  any 
time  know  the  pains  he  exerted  in  causing  my  evil  reputa- 
tion to  follow  me,  they  would  consider  it  as  an  act  of  im- 


% 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  385 

partial  justice,  perhaps  as  a  generous  anxiety,  to  prevent 
other  men  from  being  imposed  upon  and  injured  as  he  had 
been. 

What  expedient  was  I  to  employ  for  the  purpose  of 
counteracting  the  meditated  and  barbarous  prudence  which 
was  thus  destined,  in  all  changes  of  scene,  to  deprive  me  of 
the  benefits  and  consolations  of  human  society?  There 
was  one  expedient  against  which  I  was  absolutely  de- 
termined— disguise.  I  had  experienced  so  many  mortifi- 
cations and  such  intolerable  restraint  when  I  formerly  had 
recourse  to  it, — it  was  associated  in  my  memory  with  sen- 
sations of  acute  anguish,  that  my  mind  was  thus  far  en- 
tirely convinced:  life  was  not  worth  purchasing  at  so  high  a 
price!  But,  though  in  this  respect  I  was  wholly  resolved, 
there  was  another  point  that  did  not  appear  so  material, 
and  in  which  therefore  I  was  willing  to  accommodate  myself 
to  circumstances.  I  was  contented,  if  that  would  ensure 
my  peace,  to  submit  to  the  otherwise  unmanly  expedient 
of  passing  by  a  different  name. 

But  the  change  of  my  name,  the  abruptness  with  which  I 
removed  from  place  to  place,  the  remoteness  and  obscurity 
which  I  proposed  to  myself  in  the  choice  of  my  abode,  were 
all  insufficient  to  elude  the  sagacity  of  Gines,  or  the  unre- 
lenting constancy  with  which  Mr.  Falkland  incited  my 
tormentor  to  pursue  me.  Whithersoever  I  removed  myself, 
it  was  not  long  before  I  had  occasion  to  perceive  this  de- 
tested adversary  in  my  rear.  No  words  can  enable  me  to 
do  justice  to  the  sensations  which  this  circumstance  pro- 
duced in  me.  It  was  like  what  has  been  described  of  the 
eye  of  Omniscience,  pursuing  the  guilty  sinner,  and  darting 
a  ray  that  awakens  him  to  new  sensibility,  at  the  very 
moment  that,  otherwise,  exhausted  nature  would  lull  him 
into  a  temporary  oblivion  of  the  reproaches  of  his  con- 
science. Sleep  fled  from  my  eyes.  No  walls  could  hide 
me  from  the  discernment  of  this  hated  foe.  Everywhere 
his  industry  was  unwearied  to  create  for  me  new  distress. 
Rest  I  had  none;  relief  I  had  none:  never  could  I  count  upon 


386  ADVENTURES  OF 

an  instant's  security;  never  could  I  wrap  myself  in  the 
shroud  of  oblivion.  The  minutes  in  which  I  did  not  actually 
perceive  him  were  contaminated  and  blasted  with  the  cer- 
tain expectation  of  speedy  interference.  In  my  first  re- 
treat I  had  passed  a  few  weeks  of  delusive  tranquillity,  but 
never  after  was  I  happy  enough  to  attain  to  so  much  as 
that  shadowy  gratification.  I  spent  some  years  in  this 
dreadful  vicissitude  of  pain.  My  sensations  at  certain  pe- 
riods amounted  to  insanity. 

I  pursued  in  every  succeeding  instance  the  conduct  I  had 
adopted  at  first.  I  determined  never  to  enter  into  a  con- 
test of  accusation  and  defence  with  the  execrable  Gines. 
If  I  could  have  submitted  to  it  in  other  respects,  what  pur- 
pose would  it  answer?  I  should  have  but  an  imperfect 
and  mutilated  story  to  tell.  This  story  had  succeeded  with 
persons  already  prepossessed  in  my  favour  by  personal  in- 
tercourse; but  could  it  succeed  with  strangers?  It  had 
succeeded  so  long  as  I  was  able  to  hide  myself  from  my 
pursuers;  but  could  it  succeed  now  that  this  appeared  im- 
practicable, and  that  they  proceeded  by  arming  against  me 
a  whole  vicinity  at  once? 

It  is  inconceivable  the  mischiefs  that  this  kind  of  ex- 
istence included.  Why  should  I  insist  upon  such  aggra- 
vations as  hunger,  beggary,  and  external  wretchedness? 
These  were  an  inevitable  consequence.  It  was  by  the  de- 
sertion of  mankind  that,  in  each  successive  instance,  I  was 
made  acquainted  with  my  fate.  Delay  in  such  a  moment 
served  but  to  increase  the  evil;  and  when  I  fled,  meager- 
ness  and  penury  w?ere  the  ordinary  attendants  of  my  course. 
But  this  was  a  small  consideration.  Indignation  at  one 
time,  and  unconquerable  perseverance  at  another,  sustained 
me,  where  humanity,  left  to  itself,  would  probably  have  sunk. 

It  has  already  appeared  that  I  was  not  of  a  temper  to 
endure  calamity  without  endeavouring,  by  every  means  I 
could  devise,  to  elude  and  disarm  it.  Recollecting,  as  I 
was  habituated  to  do,  the  various  projects  by  which  my  situ- 
ation could  be  meliorated;  the  question   occurred  to  me, 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  387 

"Why  should  I  be  harassed  by  the  pursuit  of  this  Gines? 
Why,  man  to  man,  may  I  not,  by  the  powers  of  my  mind, 
attain  the  ascendency  over  him?  At  present  he  appears  to 
be  the  persecutor,  and  I  the  persecuted:  is  not  this  dif- 
ference the  mere  creature  of  the  imagination?  May  I  not 
employ  my  ingenuity  to  vex  him  with  difficulties,  and  laugh 
at  the  endless  labour  to  which  he  will  be  condemned?" 

Alas,  this  is  a  speculation  for  a  mind  at  ease!  It  is  not 
the  persecution,  but  the  catastrophe  which  is  annexed  to  it, 
that  makes  the  difference  between  the  tyrant  and  the  suf- 
ferer! In  mere  corporal  exertion  the  hunter  perhaps  is 
upon  a  level  with  the  miserable  animal  he  pursues!  But 
could  it  be  forgotten  by  either  of  us,  that  at  every  stage 
Gines  was  to  gratify  his  malignant  passions,  by  dissemi- 
nating charges  of  the  most  infamous  nature,  and  exciting 
against  me  the  abhorrence  of  every  honest  bosom,  while 
I  was  to  sustain  the  still-repeated  annihilation  of  my  peace, 
my  character,  and  my  bread?  Could  I,  by  any  refine- 
ment of  reason,  convert  this  dreadful  series  into  sport?  I 
had  no  philosophy  that  qualified  me  for  so  extraordinary 
an  effort.  If,  under  other  circumstances,  I  could  even  have 
entertained  so  strange  an  imagination,  I  was  restrained  in 
the  present  instance  by  the  necessity  of  providing  for  my- 
self the  means  of  subsistence,  and  the  fetters  which,  through 
that  necessity,  the  forms  of  human  society  imposed  upon 
my  exertions. 

In  one  of  those  changes  of  residence  to  which  my  mis- 
erable fate  repeatedly  compelled  me,  I  met,  upon  a  road 
which  I  was  obliged  to  traverse,  the  friend  of  my  youth, 
my  earliest  and  best  beloved  friend,  the  venerable  Collins. 
It  was  one  of  those  misfortunes  which  served  to  accumulate 
my  distress,  that  this  man  had  quitted  the  island  of  Great 
Britain  only  a  very  few  weeks  before  that  fatal  reverse  of 
fortune  which  had  ever  since  pursued  me  with  unrelenting 
eagerness.  Mr.  Falkland,  in  addition  to  the  large  estate 
he  possessed  in  England,  had  a  very  valuable  plantation  in 
the   West   Indies.     This   property   had   been   greatly   mis- 


388  ADVENTURES  OF 

managed  by  the  person  who  had  the  direction  of  it  on  the 
spot;  and.  after  various  promises  and  evasions  on  his  part, 
which,  however  they  might  serve  to  beguile  the  patience  of 
Mr.  Falkland,  had  been  attended  with  no  salutary  fruits, 
it  was  resolved  that  Mr.  Collins  should  go  over  in  person, 
to  rectify  the  abuses  which  had  so  long  prevailed.  There 
had  even  been  some  idea  of  his  residing  several  years,  if 
not  settling  finally,  upon  the  plantation.  From  that  hour 
to  the  present  I  had  never  received  the  smallest  intelligence 
respecting  him. 

I  had  always  considered  the  circumstance  of  his  critical 
absence  as  one  of  my  severest  misfortunes.  Mr.  Collins 
had  been  one  of  the  first  persons,  even  in  the  period  of  my 
infancy,  to  conceive  hopes  of  me.  as  of  something  above  the 
common  standard;  and  had  contributed  more  than  any 
other  to  encourage  and  assist  my  juvenile  studies.  He  had 
been  the  executor  of  the  little  property  of  my  father,  who 
had  fixed  upon  him  for  that  purpose  in  consideration  of  the 
mutual  affection  that  existed  between  us;  and  I  seemed, 
on  every  account,  to  have  more  claim  upon  his  protection 
than  upon  that  of  any  other  human  being.  I  had  always 
believed  that,  had  he  been  present  in  the  crisis  of  my 
fortune,  he  would  have  felt  a  conviction  of  my  innocence; 
and.  convinced  himself,  would,  by  means  of  the  venerable- 
ness  and  energy  of  his  character,  have  interposed  so  effectu- 
ally, as  to  have  saved  me  the  greater  part  of  my  subsequent 
misfortunes. 

There  was  yet  another  idea  in  my  mind  relative  to  this 
subject,  which  had  more  weight  with  me  than  even  the 
substantial  exertions  of  friendship  I  should  have  expected 
from  him.  The  greatest  aggravation  of  my  present  lot  was, 
that  I  was  cut  oft  from  the  friendship  of  mankind.  I  can 
safely  affirm; "that  poverty  and  hunger,  that  enc!Te?s"wander- 
ings,  that  a  blasted  character  and  the  curses  that  clung  to 
my  name,  were  all  of  them  slight  misfortunes  compared  to 
this.     I  endeavoured  to  sustain  myself  by  the  sense  of  my 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  389 

integrity,  but  the  voice  of  no  man  upon  earth  echoed  to  the 
voice  of  my  conscience.  "I  called  aloud:  but  there  was 
none  to  answer:  there  was  none  that  regarded."  To  me 
the  whole  world  was  unhearing  as  the  tempest,  and  as  cold 
as  the  torpedo.  Sympathy,  the  magnetic  virtue,  the  hidden 
essence  of  our  lifejwas  extinct:  Nor  was  this  the  sum  of  my 
misery.  This  food7"so  essential  to  an  intelligent  existence, 
seemed  perpetually  renewing  before  me  in  its  fairest  colours, 
only  the  more  effectually  to  elude  my  grasp,  and  to  mock 
my  hunger.  From  time  to  time  I  was  prompted  to  unfold 
the  affections  of  my  soul,  only  to  be  repelled  with  the 
greater  anguish,  and  to  be  baffled  in  a  way  the  most  in- 
tolerably mortifying. 

Xo  sight,  therefore,  could  give  me  a  purer  delight  than 
that  which  now  presented  itself  to  my  eyes.  It  was  some 
time,  however,  before  either  of  us  recognised  the  counte- 
nance of  the  other.  Ten  years  had  elapsed  since  our  last 
interview.  Mr.  Collins  looked  much  older  than  he  had 
done  at  that  period:  in  addition  to  which  he  was.  in  his 
present  appearance,  pale,  sickly,  and  thin.  These  unfavour- 
able effects  had  been  produced  by  the  change  of  climate, 
particularly  trying  to  persons  in  an  advanced  period  of  life. 
Add  to  which,  I  supposed  him  to  be  at  that  moment  in  the 
West  Indies.  I  was  probably  as  much  altered  in  the  period 
that  had  elapsed  as  he  had  been.  I  was  the  first  to  recol- 
lect him.  He  was  on  horseback;  I  on  foot.  I  had  suf- 
fered him  to  pass  me.  In  a  moment  the  full  idea  of  who 
he  was  rushed  upon  my  mind:  I  ran;  I  called  with  an  im- 
petuous voice;  I  was  unable  to  restrain  the  vehemence  of 
my  emotions. 

The  ardour  of  my  feelings  disguised  my  usual  tone  of 
speaking,  which  otherwise  Mr.  Collins  would  infallibly  have 
recognised.  His  sight  was  already  dim:  he  pulled  up  his 
horse  till  I  should  overtake  him:  and  then  said,  "Who  are 
you?  I  do  not  know  you." 
/"My  father!''  exclaimed  I,  embracing  one  of  his  knees 


390  ADVENTURES  OF 

with  fervour  and  delight,  "I  am  your  son;  once  your  little 
Caleb,  whom  you  a  thousand  times  loaded  with  your  kind- 
ness!" 

The  unexpected  repetition  of  my  name  gave  a  kind  of 
shuddering  emotion  to  my  friend,  which  was  however 
checked  by  his  age,  and  the  calm  and  benevolent  philosophy 
that  formed  one  of  his  most  conspicuous  habits. 

"I  did  not  expect  to  see  you!"  replied  he:  "I  did  not 
wish  it!" 

"My  best,  my  oldest  friend!"  answered  I,  respect  blend- 
ing itself  with  my  impatience,  "do  not  say  so!  I  have  not 
a  friend  anywhere  in  the  world  but  you!  In  you  at  least 
let  me  find  sympathy  and  reciprocal  affection!  If  you 
knew  how  anxiously  I  have  thought  of  you  during  the 
whole  period  of  your  absence,  you  would  not  thus  grievously 
disappoint  me  in  your  return!" 

"How  is  it,"  said  Mr.  Collins,  gravely,  "that  you  have 
been  reduced  to  this  forlorn  condition?  Was  it  not  the 
inevitable  consequence  of  your  own  actions?" 

"The  actions  of  others,  not  mine!  Does  not  your  heart 
tell  you  that  I  am  innocent?" 

"No.  My  observation  of  your  early  character  taught 
me  that  you  would  be  extraordinary;  but,  unhappily,  all 
extraordinary  men  are  not  good  men:  that  seems  to  be  a 
lottery,  dependent  on  circumstances  apparently  the  most 
trivial." 

'Will  you  hear  my  justification?  I  am  as  sure  as  I  am 
of  my  existence,  that  I  can  convince  you  of  my  purity." 

"Certainly,  if  you  require  it,  I  will  hear  you.  But  that 
must  not  be  just  now.  I  could  have  been  glad  to  decline 
it  wholly.  At  my  age  I  am  not  fit  for  the  storm ;  and  I  am 
not  so  sanguine  as  you  in  my  expectation  of  the  result.  Of 
what  would  you  convince  me?  That  Mr.  Falkland  is  a 
suborner  and  murderer?" 

I  made  no  answer.  My  silence  was  an  affirmative  to  the 
question. 

"And  what  benefit  will  result  from  this  conviction?     I 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  391 

have  known  you  a  promising  boy,  whose  character  might 
turn  to  one  side  or  the  other  as  events  should  decide.  I 
have  known  Mr.  Falkland  in  his  maturer  years,  and  have 
always  admired  him,  as  the  living  model  of  liberality  and 
goodness.  If  you  could  change  all  my  ideas,  and  show  me 
that  there  was  no  criterion  by  which  vice  might  be  pre- 
vented from  being  mistaken  for  virtue,  what  benefit  would 
arise  from  that?  I  must  part  with  all  my  interior  con- 
solation, and  all  my  external  connexions.  And  for  what? 
What  is  it  you  propose?  The  death  of  Mr.  Falkland  by 
the  hands  of  the  hangman?" 

"No;  I  will  not  hurt  a  hair  of  his  head,  unless  compelled 
to  it  by  a  principle  of  defence.  But  surely  you  owe  me 
justice?" 

"What  justice?  The  justice  of  proclaiming  your  inno- 
cence? You  know  what  consequences  are  annexed  to  that. 
But  I  do  not  believe  I  shall  find  you  innocent.  If  you  even 
succeed  in  perplexing  my  understanding,  you  will  not  suc- 
ceed in  enlightening  it.  Such  is  the  state  of  mankind,  that 
innocence,  when  involved  in  circumstances  of  suspicion,  can 
scarcely  ever  make  out  a  demonstration  of  its  purity;  and 
guilt  can  often  make  us  feel  an  insurmountable  reluctance 
to  the  pronouncing  it  guilt.  Meanwhile,  for  the  purchase  of 
this  uncertainty,  I  must  sacrifice  all  the  remaining  comforts 
of  my  life.  I  believe  Mr.  Falkland  to  be  virtuous;  but  I 
know  him  to  be  prejudiced.  He  would  never  forgive  me 
even  this  accidental  parley,  if  by  any  means  he  should  come 
to  be  acquainted  with  it." 

"Oh,  argue  not  the  consequences  that  are  possible  to 
result!"  answered  I.  impatiently.  "I  have  a  right  to  your 
kindness;  I  have  a  right  to  your  assistance!" 

"You  have  them.  You  have  them  to  a  certain  degree; 
and  it  is  not  likely  that,  by  any  process  of  examination,  you 
can  have  them  entire.  You  know  my  habits  of  thinking. 
I  regard  you  as  vicious;  but  I  do  not  consider  the  vicious 
as  proper  objects  of  indignation  and  scorn.  I  consider  you 
as  a  machine;  you  are  not  constituted,  I  am  afraid,  to  be 


392  ADVENTURES  OF 

greatly  useful  to  your  fellow-men:  but  you  did  not  make 
yourself;  you  are  just  what  circumstances  irresistibly  com- 
pelled you  to  be.  I  am  sorry  for  your  ill  properties;  but  I 
entertain  no  enmity  against  you,  nothing  but  benevolence. 
Considering  you  in  the  light  in  which  I  aTpresent  consider 
you,  I  am  ready  to  contribute  everything  in  my  power  to 
your  real  advantage,  and  would  gladly  assist  you,  if  I  knew 
how,  in  detecting  and  extirpating  the  errors  that  have  mis- 
led you.  You  have  disappointed  me,  but  I  have  no  re- 
proaches to  utter:  it  is  more  necessary  for  me  to  feel  com- 
passion for  you,  than  that  I  should  accumulate  your  mis- 
fortune by  my  censures." 

What  could  I  say  to  such  a  man  as  this?  Amiable,  in- 
comparable man!  Never  was  my  mind  more  painfully 
divided  than  at  that  moment.  The  more  he  excited  my 
admiration,  the  more  imperiously  did  my  heart  command 
me,  whatever  were  the  price  it  should  cost,  to  extort  his 
friendship.  I  was  persuaded  that  severe  duty  required  of 
him  that  he  should  reject  all  personal  considerations,  that 
he  should  proceed  resolutely  to  the  investigation  of  the  truth, 
and  that,  if  he  found  the  result  terminating  in  my  favour, 
he  should  resign  all  his  advantages,  and,  deserted  as  I  was 
by  the  world,  make  a  common  cause,  and  endeavour  to 
compensate  the  general  injustice.  But  was  it  for  me  to 
force  this  conduct  upon  him,  if  now,  in  his  declining  years, 
his  own  fortitude  shrank  from  it?  Alas,  neither  he  nor  I 
foresaw  the  dreadful  catastrophe  that  was  so  closely  im- 
pending! Otherwise  I  am  well  assured  that  no  tender- 
ness for  his  remaining  tranquillity  would  have  withheld  him 
from  a  compliance  with  my  wishes!  On  the  other  hand, 
could  I  pretend  to  know  what  evils  might  result  to  him 
from  his  declaring  himself  my  advocate?  Might  not  his 
integrity  be  browbeaten  and  defeated,  as  mine  had  been? 
Did  the  imbecility  of  his  gray  hairs  afford  no  advantage  to 
my  terrible  adversary  in  the  contest?  Might  not  Mr.  Falk- 
land reduce  him  to  a  condition  as  wretched  and  low  as 
mine?    After  all,  was  it  not  vice  in  me  to  desire  to  involve 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  393 

another  man  in  my  sufferings?  If  I  regarded  them  as  in- 
tolerable, this  was  still  an  additional  reason  why  I  should 
bear  them  alone. 

Influenced  by  these  considerations,  I  assented  to  his 
views.  I  assented  to  be  thought  hardly  of  by  the  one  man  in 
the  world  whose  esteem  I  most  ardently  desired,  rather  than 
involve  him  in  possible  calamity.  I  assented  to  the  resign- 
ing what  appeared  to  me  at  that  moment  as  the  last  prac- 
ticable comfort  of  my  life;  a  comfort,  upon  the  thoughts 
of  which,  while  I  surrendered  it,  my  mind  dwelt  with  in- 
describable longings.  Mr.  Collins  was  deeply  affected  with 
the  apparent  ingenuousness  with  which  I  expressed  my 
feelings.  The  secret  struggle  of  his  mind  was,  "Can  this  be 
hypocrisy?  The  individual  with  whom  I  am  conferring, 
if  virtuous,  is  one  of  the  most  disinterestedly  virtuous  per- 
sons in  the  world."  We  tore  ourselves  from  each  other. 
Mr.  Collins  promised,  as  far  as  he  was  able,  to  have  an  eye 
upon  my  vicissitudes,  and  to  assist  me  in  every  respect  that 
was  consistent  with  a  just  recollection  of  consequences.  Thus 
I  parted,  as  it  were,  with  the  last  expiring  hope  of  my  mind ; 
and  voluntarily  consented,  thus  maimed  and  forlorn,  to  en- 
counter all  the  evils  that  were  yet  in  store  for  me. 

This  is  the  latest  event  which  at  present  I  think  it  neces- 
sary to  record.  I  shall  doubtless  hereafter  have  further 
occasion  to  take  up  the  pen.  Great  and  unprecedented  as 
my  sufferings  have  been,  I  feel  intimately  persuaded  that 
there  are  worse  sufferings  that  await  me.  What  mysterious 
cause  is  it  that  enables  me  to  write  this,  and  not  to  perish 
under  the  horrible  apprehension! 


CHAPTER  FORTY-ONE 

IT  is  as  I  foretold.  The  presage  with  which  I  was  vis- 
ited was  prophetic.  I  am  now  to  record  a  new  and 
terrible  revolution  of  my  fortune  and  my  mind. 

Having  made  experiment  of  various  situations  with  one 
uniform  result,  I  at  length  determined  to  remove  myself,  if 
possible,  from  the  reach  of  my  persecutor,  by  going  into 
voluntary  banishment  from  my  native  soil.  This  was  my 
last  resource  for  tranquillity,  for  honest  fame,  for  those 
privileges  to  which  human  life  is  indebted  for  the  whole  of 
its  value.  "In  some  distant  climate,"  said  I,  "surely  I 
may  find  that  security  which  is  necessary  to  persevering 
pursuit ;  surely  I  may  lift  my  head  erect,  associate  with  men 
upon  the  footing  of  a  man,  acquire  connexions,  and  pre- 
serve them!"  It  is  inconceivable  with  what  ardent  Teach- 
ings of  the  soul  I  aspired  to  this  termination. 

This  last  consolation  was  denied  me  by  the  inexorable 
Falkland. 

At  the  time  the  project  was  formed  I  was  at  no  great  dis- 
tance from  the  east  coast  of  the  island,  and  I  resolved  to 
take  ship  at  Harwich,  and  pass  immediately  into  Holland. 
I  accordingly  repaired  to  that  place,  and  went,  almost  as 
soon  as  I  arrived,  to  the  port.  But  there  was  no  vessel 
perfectly  ready  to  sail.  I  left  the  port,  and  withdrew  to  an 
inn  where,  after  some  time,  I  retired  to  a  chamber.  I  was 
scarcely  there  before  the  door  of  the  room  was  opened,  and 
the  man  whose  countenance  was  the  most  hateful  to  my 
eyes,  Gines,  entered  the  apartment.  He  shut  the  door  as 
soon  as  he  entered. 

"Youngster,"  said  he,  "I  have  a  little  private  intelligence 
to  communicate  to  you.  I  come  as  a  friend,  and  that  I  may 
save  you  a  labour-in-vain  trouble.     If  you  consider  what  I 

394 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  395 

have  to  say  in  that  light,  it  will  be  the  better  for  you.  It  is 
my  business  now,  do  you  see,  for  want  of  a  better,  to  see 
that  you  do  not  break  out  of  bounds.  Xot  that  I  much 
matter  having  one  man  for  my  employer,  or  dancing  at- 
tendance after  another's  heels;  but  I  have  special  kindness 
for  you,  for  some  good  turns  that  you  wot  of,  and  therefore 
I  do  not  stand  upon  ceremonies!  You  have  led  me  a  very 
pretty  round  already;  and,  out  of  the  love  I  bear  you,  you 
shall  lead  me  as  much  farther,  if  you  will.  But  beware  the 
salt  seas!  They  are  out  of  my  orders.  You  are  a  prisoner 
at  present,  and  I  believe  all  your  life  will  remain  so.  Thanks 
to  the  milk-and-water  softness  of  your  former  master!  If 
I  had  the  ordering  of  these  things,  it  should  go  with  you  in 
another  fashion.  As  long  as  you  think  proper,  you  are  a 
prisoner  within  the  rules;  and  the  rules  with  which  the 
soft-hearted  squire  indulges  you  are  all  England,  Scotland, \ 
and  Wales.  But  you  are  not  to  go  out  of  these  climates.  / 
The  squire  is  determined  you  shall  never  pass  the  reach  of*/ 
his  disposal.  He  has  therefore  given  orders  that,  whenever 
you  attempt  so  to  do,  you  shall  be  converted  from  a  pris- 
oner at  large  to  a  prisoner  in  good  earnest.  A  friend  of 
mine  followed  you  just  now  to  the  harbour;  I  was  within 
call;  and  if  there  had  been  any  appearance  of  your  setting 
your  foot  from  land,  we  should  have  been  with  you  in  a 
trice,  and  laid  you  fast  by  the  heels.  I  would  advise  you, 
for  the  future,  to  keep  at  a  proper  distance  from  the  sea, 
for  fear  of  the  worst.  You  see,  I  tell  you  all  this  for  your 
good.  For  my  part,  I  should  be  better  satisfied  if  you  were 
in  limbo,  with  a  rope  about  your  neck,  and  a  comfortable 
bird's-eye  prospect  to  the  gallows:  but  I  do  as  I  am  di- 
rected; and  so  good-night  to  you!" 

The  intelligence  thus  conveyed  to  me  occasioned  an  in- 
stantaneous revolution  in  both  my  intellectual  and  animal 
system.  I  disdained  to  answer,  or  take  the  smallest  notice 
of  the  fiend  by  whom  it  was  delivered.  It  is  now  three 
days  since  I  received  it,  and  from  that  moment  to  the  present 
my  blood  has  been  in  a  perpetual  ferment.     My  thoughts 


396  ADVENTURES  OF 

wander  from  one  idea  of  horror  to  another,  with  incredible 
rapidity.  I  have  had  no  sleep.  I  have  scarcely  remained 
in  one  posture  for  a  minute  together.  It  has  been  with  the 
utmost  difficulty  that  I  have  been  able  to  command  myself 
far  enough  to  add  a  few  pages  to  my  story.  But,  uncer- 
tain as  I  am  of  the  events  of  each  succeeding  hour,  I  de- 
termined to  force  myself  to  the  performance  of  this  task. 
All  is  not  right  within  me.  How  it  will  terminate,  God 
knows.  I  sometimes  fear  that  I  shall  be  wholly  deserted 
of  my  reason. 

What! — dark,  mysterious,  unfeeling,  unrelenting  tyrant! 

— is  it  come  to  this?     When  Xero  and  Caligula  swayed  the 

Roman  sceptre,  it  was  a  fearful  thing  to  offend  these  bloody 

rulers.     The  empire  had  already  spread  itself  from  climate 

to  climate,  and  from  sea  to  sea.     If  their  unhappy  victim 

fled  to  the  rising  of  the  sun,  where  the  luminary  of  day 

^v  seems  to  us  first  to  ascend  from  the  waves  of  the  ocean,  the 

)  power  of  the  tyrant  was  still  behind  him.     If  he  withdrew 

/  to  the  west,  to  Hesperian  darkness,  and  the  shores  of  bar- 

/     barian  Thule,  still  he  was  not  safe  from  his  gore-drenched 

/      foe. — Falkland!  art  thou  the  offspring,  in  whom  the  linea- 

1      ments  of  these  tyrants  are  faithfully  preserved?     Was  the 

X^world,  with  all  its  climates,  made  in  vain  for  thy  helpless, 

unoffending  victim? 

Tremble! 

Tyrants  have  trembled,  surrounded  with  whole  armies  of 
their  janissaries!  What  should  make  thee  inaccessible  to 
my  fury?  No,  1  will  use  no  daggers!  I  will  unfold  a  tale! 
— I  will  show  thee  to  the  world  for  what  thou  art;  and  ail 
the  men  that  live  shall  confess  my  truth! — Didst  thou  im- 
agine that  I  was  altogether  passive,  a  mere  worm,  organized 
to  feel  sensations  of  pain,  but  no  emotion  of  resentment? 
Didst  thou  imagine  that  there  was  no  danger  in  inflicting 
on  me  pains  however  great,  miseries  however  dreadful? 
Didst  thou  believe  me  impotent,  imbecile,  and  idiot-like, 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  307 

with  no  understanding  to  contrive  thy  ruin,  and  no  energy 
to  perpetrate  it? 

I  will  tell  a  tale! — The  justice  of  the  country  shall  hear 
me!  The  elements  of  nature  in  universal  uproar  shall  not 
interrupt  me!  I  will  speak  with  a  voice  more  fearful  than 
thunder! — Why  should  I  be  supposed  to  speak  from  any 
dishonourable  motive?  I  am  under  no  prosecution  now!  I 
shall  not  now  appear  to  be  endeavouring  to  remove  a  crim- 
inal indictment  from  myself,  by  throwing  it  back  on  its 
author! — Shall  I  regret  the  ruin  that  will  overwhelm  thee? 
Too  long  have  I  been  tender-hearted  and  forbearing!  What 
benefit  has  ever  resulted  from  my  mistaken  clemency? 
There  is  no  evil  thou  hast  scrupled  to  accumulate  upon  me! 
Neither  will  I  be  more  scrupulous!  Thou  hast  shown  no 
mercy;  and  thou  shalt  receive  none! — I  must  be  calm! 
bold  as  a  lion,  yet  collected! 

This  is  a  moment  pregnant  with  fate.  I  know — I  think 
I  know — that  I  will  be  triumphant,  and  crush  my  seem- 
ingly omnipotent  foe.  But  should  it  be  otherwise,  at  least 
he  shall  not  be  every  way  successful.  His  fame  shall  not  be 
immortal  as  he  thinks.  These  papers  shall  preserve  the 
truth:  they  shall  one  day  be  published,  and  then  the  world 
shall  do  justice  on  us  both.  Recollecting  that,  I  shall  not 
die  wholly  without  consolation.  It  is  not  tn  he  endured 
that  falsehood  and  tyranny  should  reign  for  ever. 

How  impotent  are  the  precautions  ot  man  against  the 
eternally  existing  laws  of  the  intellectual  world!  This  Falk- 
land has  invented  against  me  every  species  of  foul  accusa- 
tion. He  has  hunted  me  from  city  to  city.  He  has  drawn 
his  lines  of  circumvallation  round  me  that  I  may  not  es- 
cape. He  has  kept  his  scenters  of  human  prey  for  ever  at 
my  heels.  He  may  hunt  me  out  of  the  world. — In  vain! 
With  this  engine,  this  little  pen,  I  defeat  all  his  machina- 
tions; I  stab  him  in  the  very  point  he  was  most  solicitous  to 
defend! 

Collins!     I   now  address  myself   to   you.     I  have  con-\ 
sented  that  you  should  yield  me  no  assistance  in  my  pres- 


398  CALEB  WILLIAMS 

ent  terrible  situation.  I  am  content  to  die  rather  than  do 
anything  injurious  to  your  tranquillity.  But  remember,  you 
are  my  father  still!  I  conjure  you,  by  all  the  love  you  ever 
bore  me,  by  the  benefits  you  have  conferred  on  me,  by  the 
forbearance  and  kindness  towards  you  that  now  penetrates 
my  soul,  by  my  innocence — for,  if  these  be  the  last  words  I 
shall  ever  write,  I  die  protesting  my  innocence! — by  all 
these,  or  whatever  tie  more  sacred  has  influence  on  your  soul, 
I  conjure  you,  listen  to  my  last  request!  Preserve  these 
papers  from  destruction,  and  preserve  them  from  Falkland! 
It  is  all  I  ask.  I  have  taken  care  to  provide  a  safe  mode 
of  conveying  them  into  your  possession:  and  I  have  a  firm 
confidence,  which  I  will  not  suffer  to  depart  from  me,  that 
they  will  one  day  find  their  way  to  the  public. 

The  pen  lingers  in  my  trembling  fingers!  Is  there  any- 
thing I  have  left  unsaid? — The  contents  of  the  fatal  trunk 
from  which  all  my  misfortunes  originated  I  have  never  been 
able  to  ascertain.  I  once  thought  it  contained  some  mur- 
derous instrument  or  relic  connected  with  the  fate  of  the 
unhappy  Tyrrel.  I  am  now  persuaded  that  the  secret  it 
encloses  is  a  faithful  narrative  of  that  and  its  concomitant 
transactions,  written  by  Mr.  Falkland,  and  reserved  in 
case  of  the  worst,  that,  if  by  any  unforeseen  event  his  guilt 
should  come  to  be  fully  disclosed,  it  might  contribute  to 
redeem  the  wreck  of  his  reputation.  But  the  truth  or  the 
falsehood  of  this  conjecture  is  of  little  moment.  If  Falk- 
land shall  never  be  detected  to  the  satisfaction  of  the  world, 
such  a  narrative  will  probably  never  see  the  light.  In  that 
case  this  story  of  mine  may  amply,  severely  perhaps,  sup- 
ply its  place. 

I  know  not  what  it  is  that  renders  me  thus  solemn.  I 
have  a  secret  foreboding,  as  if  I  should  never  again  be 
master  of  myself.  If  I  succeed  in  what  I  now  meditate  re- 
specting Falkland,  my  precaution  in  the  disposal  of  these 
papers  will  have  been  unnecessary;  I  shall  no  longer  be  re- 
duced to  artifice  and  evasion.  If  I  fail,  the  precaution  will 
appear  to  have  been  wisely  chosen. 


POSTSCRIPT 

ALL  is  over.  I  have  carried  into  execution  my  medi- 
tated attempt.  My  situation  is  totally  changed;  I  now 
-  sit  down  to  give  an  account  of  it.  For  several  weeks 
after  the  completion  of  this  dreadful  business,  my  mind  was 
in  too  tumultuous  a  state  to  permit  me  to  write.  I  think  I 
shall  now  be  able  to  arrange  my  thoughts  sufficiently  for  that 
purpose.  Great  God!  how  wondrous,  how  terrible  are  the 
events  that  have  intervened  since  I  was  last  employed  in  a 
similar  manner!  It  is  no  wonder  that  my  thoughts  were 
solemn,  and  my  mind  filled  with  horrible  forebodings! 

Having  formed  my  resolution,  I  set  out  from  Harwich,  for 
the  metropolitan  town  of  the  county  in  which  Mr.  Falkland 
resided.  Gines,  I  well  knew,  was  in  my  rear.  That  was  of 
no  consequence  to  me.  He  might  wonder  at  the  direction 
I  pursued,  but  he  could  not  tell  with  what  purpose  I  pur- 
sued it.  My  design  was  a  secret,  carefully  locked  up  in 
my  own  breast.  It  was  not  without  a  sentiment  of  terror 
that  I  entered  a  town  which  had  been  the  scene  of  my 
long  imprisonment.  I  proceeded  to  the  house  of  the  chief 
magistrate  the  instant  I  arrived,  that  I  might  give  no  time 
to  my  adversary  to  counteract  my  proceeding. 

I  told  him  who  I  was,  and  that  I  was  come  from  a  dis- 
tant part  of  the  kingdom,  for  the  purpose  of  rendering  him 
the  medium  of  a  charge  of  murder  against  my  former  patron. 
My  name  was  already  familiar  to  him.  He  answered,  that 
he  could  not  take  cognizance  of  my  deposition;  that  I  was 
an  object  of  universal  execration  in  that  part  of  the  world; 
and  he  was  determined  upon  no  account  to  be  the  vehicle 
of  my  depravity. 

I  warned  him  to  consider  well  what  he  was  doing.  I 
called  upon  him  for  no  favour :  I  only  applied  to  him  in  the 

399 


4oo  ADVENTURES  OF 

regular  exercise  of  his  function.  Would  he  take  upon  him 
to  say  that  he  had  a  right,  at  his  pleasure,  to  suppress  a 
charge  of  this  complicated  nature?  I  had  to  accuse  Mr. 
Falkland  of  repeated  murders.  The  perpetrator  knew  that 
I  was  in  possession  of  the  truth  upon  the  subject;  and, 
knowing  that,  I  went  perpetually  in  danger  of  my  life  from 
his  malice  and  revenge.  I  was  resolved  to  go  through  with 
the  business,  if  justice  were  to  be  obtained  from  any  court  in 
England.  Upon  what  pretence  did  he  refuse  my  deposi- 
tion? I  was  in  every  respect  a  competent  witness.  I  was 
of  age  to  understand  the  nature  of  an  oath;  I  was  in  my 
perfect  senses ;  I  was  untarnished  by  the  verdict  of  any  jury, 
or  the  sentence  of  any  judge.  His  private  opinion  of  my 
character  could  not  alter  the  law  of  the  land.  I  demanded 
to  be  confronted  with  Mr.  Falkland,  and  I  was  well  assured 
I  should  substantiate  the  charge  to  the  satisfaction  of  the 
whole  world.  If  he  did  not  think  proper  to  apprehend  him 
upon  my  single  testimony,  I  should  be  satisfied  if  he  only 
sent  him  notice  of  the  charge,  and  summoned  him  to  appear. 

The  magistrate,  finding  me  thus  resolute,  thought  proper 
a  little  to  lower  his  tone.  He  no  longer  absolutely  refused 
to  comply  with  my  requisition,  but  condescended  to  expostu- 
late with  me.  He  represented  to  me  Mr.  Falkland's  health, 
which  had  for  some  years  been  exceedingly  indifferent;  his 
having  been  once  already  brought  to  the  most  solemn  ex- 
amination upon  this  charge;  the  diabolical  malice  in  which 
alone  my  proceeding  must  have  originated;  and  the  tenfold 
ruin  it  would  bring  down  upon  my  head.  To  all  these  rep- 
resentations my  answer  was  short.  "I  was  determined  to 
go  on,  and  would  abide  the  consequences."  A  summons 
was  at  length  granted,  and  notice  sent  to  Mr.  Falkland  of 
the  charge  preferred  against  him. 

Three  days  elapsed  before  any  further  step  could  be 
taken  in  this  business.  This  interval  in  no  degree  con- 
tributed to  tranquillize  my  mind.  The  thought  of  prefer- 
ring a  capital  accusation  against,  and  hastening  the  death  of, 
such  a  man  as  Mr.  Falkland,  was  by  means  an  opiate  to 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  401 

reflection.  At  one  time  I  commended  the  action,  either  as 
just  revenge  (for  the  benevolence  of  my  nature  was  in  a 
great  degree  turned  to  gall),  or  as  necessary  self-defence, 
or  as  that  which,  in  an  impartial  and  philanthropical  esti- 
mate, included  the  smallest  evil.  At  another  time  I  was 
haunted  with  doubts.  But,  in  spite  of  these  variations  of 
sentiment,  I  uniformly  determined  to  persist!  I  felt  as  if 
impelled  by  a  tide  of  unconquerable  impulse.  The  conse-  v 
quences  were  such  as  might  well  appal  the  stoutest  heart. 
Either  the  ignominious  execution  of  a  man  whom  I  had 
once  so  deeply  venerated,  and  whom  now  I  sometimes  sus- 
pected not  to  be  without  his  claims  to  veneration ;  or  a  con- 
firmation, perhaps  an  increase,  of  the  calamities  I  had  so 
long  endured.  Yet  these  I  preferred  to  a  state  of  uncer- 
tainty. I  desired  to  know  the  worst;  to  put  an  end  to  the 
hope,  however  faint,  which  had  been  so  long  my  torment; 
and,  above  all,  to  exhaust  and  finish  the  catalogue  of  expedi- 
ents that  were  at  my  disposition.  My  mind  was  worked 
up  to  a  state  little  short  of  phrensy.  My  body  was  in  a 
burning  fever  with  the  agitation  of  my  thoughts.  When  I 
laid  my  hand  upon  my  bosom  or  my  head,  it  seemed  to 
scorch  them  with  the  fervency  of  its  heat.  I  could  not  sit 
still  for  a  moment.  I  panted  with  incessant  desire  that  the 
dreadful  crisis  I  had  so  eagerly  invoked  were  come,  and 
were  over. 

After  an  interval  of  three  days,  I  met  Mr.  Falkland  in 
the  presence  of  the  magistrate  to  whom  I  had  applied  upon 
the  subject.  I  had  only  two  hours'  notice  to  prepare  my- 
self; Mr.  Falkland  seeming  as  eager  as  I  to  have  the  ques- 
tion brought  to  a  crisis,  and  laid  at  rest  for  ever.  I  had  an 
opportunity,  before  the  examination,  to  learn  that  Mr. 
Forester  was  drawn  by  some  business  on  an  excursion  on 
the  Continent;  and  that  Collins,  whose  health  when  I  saw 
him  was  in  a  very  precarious  state,  was  at  this  time  con- 
fined with  an  alarming  illness.  His  constitution  had  been 
wholly  broken  by  his  West  Indian  expedition.  The  audi- 
ence I  met  at  the  house  of  the  magistrate  consisted  of  sev- 


402  ADVENTURES  OF 

eral  gentlemen  and  others  selected  for  the  purpose;  the 
plan  being,  in  some  respects,  as  in  the  former  instance,  to 
find  a  medium  between  the  suspicious  air  of  a  private  ex- 
amination, and  the  indelicacy,  as  it  was  styled,  of  an  ex- 
amination exposed  to  the  remark  of  every  casual  spectator. 

I  can  conceive  of  no  shock  greater  than  that  I  received 
from  the  sight  of  Mr.  Falkland.  His  appearance  on  the 
last  occasion  on  which  we  met  had  been  haggard,  ghostlike, 
and  wild,  energy  in  his  gestures,  and  phrensy  in  his  aspect. 
It  was  now  the  appearance  of  a  corpse.  He  was  brought 
in  in  a  chair,  unable  to  stand,  fatigued  and  almost  destroyed 
by  the  journey  he  had  just  taken.  His  visage  was  colour- 
less; his  limbs  destitute  of  motion,  almost  of  life.  His  head 
reclined  upon  his  bosom,  except  that  now  and  then  he  lifted 
it  up,  and  opened  his  eyes  with  a  languid  glance;  immedi- 
ately after  which  he  sunk  back  into  his  former  apparent  in- 
sensibility. He  seemed  not  to  have  three  hours  to  live.  He 
had  kept  his  chamber  for  several  weeks;  but  the  summons 
of  the  magistrate  had  been  delivered  to  him  at  his  bedside, 
his  orders  respecting  letters  and  written  papers  being  so 
peremptory  that  no  one  dared  to  disobey  them.  Upon 
reading  the  paper  he  was  seized  with  a  very  dangerous  fit; 
but,  as  soon  as  he  recovered,  he  insisted  upon  being  con- 
veyed, with  all  practicable  expedition,  to  the  place  of  ap- 
pointment. Falkland,  in  the  most  helpless  state,  was  still 
Falkland,  firm  in  command,  and  capable  to  extort  obedience 
from  every  one  that  approached  him. 

What  a  sight  was  this  to  me!  Till  the  moment  that  Falk- 
land was  presented  to  my  view  my  breast  was  steeled  to 
pity.  I  thought  that  I  had  coolly  entered  into  the  reason 
of  the  case  (passion,  in  a  state  of  solemn  and  omnipotent 
vehemence,  always  appears  to  be  coolness  to  him  in  whom 
it  domineers),  and  that  I  had  determined  impartially  and 
justly.  I  believed,  that  if  Mr.  Falkland  were  permitted  to 
persist  in  his  schemes,  we  must  both  of  us  be  completely 
wretched.  I  believed  that  it  was  in  my  power,  by  the 
resolution  I  had  formed,  to  throw  my  share  of  this  wretched- 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  403 

ness  from  me,  and  that  his  could  scarcely  be  increased.  It 
appeared,  therefore,  to  my  mind,  to  be  a  mere  piece  of 
equity  and  justice,  such  as  an  impartial  spectator  would  de- 
sire, that  one  person  should  be  miserable  in  preference  to 
two;  that  one  person  rather  than  two  should  be  incapaci- 
tated from  acting  his  part,  and  contributing  his  share  to 
the  general  welfare.  I  thought  that  in  this  business  I  had 
risen  superior  to  personal  considerations,  and  judged  with  a 
total  neglect  of  the  suggestions  of  self-regard.  It  is  true, 
Mr.  Falkland  was  mortal ;  but,  notwithstanding  his  apparent 
decay,  he  might  live  long.  Ought  I  to  submit  to  waste  the 
best  years  of  my  life  in  my  present  wretched  situation? 
He  had  declared  that  his  reputation  should  be  for  ever  invi- 
olate; this  was  the  ruling  passion,  the  thought  that  worked 
his  soul  to  madness.  He  would  probably,  therefore,  leave 
aTegac^Tof  persecution  to  be  received  by  me  from  the  hands 
of  Gines,  or  some  other  villain  equally  atrocious,  when  he 
should  himself  be  no  more.  Now  or  never  was  the  time 
for  me  to  redeem  my  future  life  from  endless  wo. 

But  all  these  fine-spun  reasonings  vanished  before  the 
object  that  was  now  presented  to  me.  "Shall  I  trample 
upon  a  man  thus  dreadfully  reduced?  Shall  I  point  my 
animosity  against  one,  whom  the  system  of  nature  has 
brought  down  to  the  grave?  Shall  I  poison,  with  sounds 
the  most  intolerable  to  his  ears,  the  last  moments  of  a  man 
like  Falkland?  It  is  possible.  There  must  have  been  some 
dreadful  mistake  in  the  train  of  argument  that  persuaded  me 
to  be  the  author  of  this  hateful  scene.  There  must  have 
been  a  better  and  more  magnanimous  remedy  to  the  evils 
under  which  I  groaned." 

It  was  too  late:  the  mistake  I  had  committed  was  now 
gone  past  all  power  of  recall.  Here  was  Falkland,  solemnly 
brought  before  a  magistrate  to  answer  to  a  charge  of  murder. 
Here  I  stood,  having  already  declared  myself  the  author  of 
the  charge,  gravely  and  sacredly  pledged  to  support  it. 
This  was  my  situation ;  and,  thus  situated,  I  was  called  upon 
immediately    to    act.     My   whole   frame   shook.     I    would 


404  ADVENTURES  OF 

eagerly  have  consented  that  that  moment  should  have  been 
the  last  of  my  existence.  I  however  believed,  that  the  con- 
duct now  most  indispensably  incumbent  on  me  was  to  lay 
the  emotions  of  my  soul  naked  before  my  hearers.  I  looked 
first  at  Mr.  Falkland,  and  then  at  the  magistrate  and  at- 
tendants, and  then  at  Mr.  Falkland  again.  My  voice  was 
suffocated  with  agony.     I  began: — 

"Why  cannot  I  recall  the  last  four  days  of  my  life? 
How  was  it  possible  for  me  to  be  so  eager,  so  obstinate,  in 
a  purpose  so  diabolical?  Oh,  that  I  had  listened  to  the 
expostulations  of  the  magistrate  that  hears  me,  or  sub- 
mitted to  the  well-meant  despotism  of  his  authority!  Hith- 
erto I  have  been  only  miserable;  henceforth  I  shall  account 
myself  base!  Hitherto,  though  hardly  treated  by  man- 
kind, I  stood  acquitted  at  the  bar  of  my  own  conscience. 
I  had  not  filled  up  the  measure  of  my  wretchedness! 

"Would  to  God  it  were  possible  for  me  to  retire  from 
this  scene  without  uttering  another  word!  I  would  brave 
the  consequences — I  would  submit  to  any  imputation  of 
cowardice,  falsehood,  and  profligacy,  rather  than  add  to 
the  weight  of  misfortune  with  which  Mr.  Falkland  is  over- 
whelmed. But  the  situation  and  the  demands  of  Mr.  Falk- 
land himself  forbid  me.  He,  in  compassion  for  whose 
fallen  state  I  would  willingly  forget  every  interest  of  my 
own,  would  compel  me  to  accuse,  that  he  might  enter  upon 
his  justification.  I  will  confess  every  sentiment  of  my 
heart. 

"No  penitence,  no  anguish  can  expiate  the  folly  and  the 
cruelty  of  this  last  act  I  have  perpetrated.  But  Mr.  Falk- 
land well  knows — I  affirm  it  in  his  presence — how  unwill- 
ingly I  have  proceeded  to  this  extremity.  I  have  rever- 
enced him;  he  was  worthy  of  reverence:  I  have  loved  him; 
he  was  endowed  with  qualities  that  partook  of  divine. 

"From  the  first  moment  I  saw  him,  I  conceived  the  most 
ardent  admiration.  He  condescended  to  encourage  me;  I 
attached  myself  to  him  with  the  fulness  of  my  affection. 
He  was  unhappy;  I  exerted  myself  with  youthful  curiosity 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  405 

to  discover  the  secret  of  his  woe.  This  was  the  beginning 
of  misfortune. 

"What  shall  I  say? — He  was  indeed  the  murderer  of 
Tyrrel;  he  suffered  the  Hawkinses  to  be  executed,  knowing 
that  they  were  innocent,  and  that  he  alone  was  guilty. 
After  successive  surmises,  after  various  indiscretions  on  my 
part,  and  indications  on  his,  he  at  length  confided  to  me 
at  full  the  fatal  tale! 

"Mr.  Falkland!  I  most  solemnly  conjure  you  to  recol- 
lect yourself!  Did  I  ever  prove  myself  unworthy  of  your 
confidence?  The  secret  was  a  most  painful  burthen  to 
me;  it  was  the  extremest  folly  that  led  me  unthinkingly  to 
gain  possession  of  it;  but  I  would  have  died  a  thousand 
deaths  rather  than  betray  it.  It  was  the  jealousy  of  your 
own  thoughts,  and  the  weight  that  hung  upon  your  mind, 
that  led  you  to  watch  my  motions,  and  to  conceive  alarm 
from  every  particle  of  my  conduct. 

"You  began  in  confidence;  why  did  you  not  continue  in 
confidence?  The  evil  that  resulted  from  my  original  im- 
prudence would  then  have  been  comparatively  little.  You 
threatened  me;  did  I  then  betray  you?  A  word  from  my 
lips  at  that  time  would  have  freed  me  from  your  threats 
for  ever.  I  bore  them  for  a  considerable  period,  and  at  last 
quitted  your  service,  and  threw  myself  a  fugitive  upon  the 
world,  in  silence.  Why  did  you  not  suffer  me  to  depart? 
You  brought  me  back  by  stratagem  and  violence,  and  wan- 
tonly accused  me  of  an  enormous  felony!  Did  I  then  men- 
tion a  syllable  of  the  murder,  the  secret  of  which  was  in 
my  possession? 

"Where  is  the  man  that  has  suffered  more  from  the  in- 
justice of  society  than  I  have  done?  I  was  accused  of  a 
villany  that  my  heart  abhorred.  I  was  sent  to  jail.  I  will 
not  enumerate  the  horrors  of  my  prison,  the  lightest  of 
which  would  make  the  heart  of  humanity  shudder.  I  looked 
forward  to  the  gallows!  Young,  ambitious,  fond  of  life, 
innocent  as  the  child  unborn,  I  looked  forward  to  the  gal- 
lows!     I  believed   that  one  word  of  resolute  accusation 


4c6  ADVENTURES  OF 

against  my  patron  would  deliver  me;  yet  T  was  silent,  I 
armed  myself  with  patience,  uncertain  whether  it  were  bet- 
ter to  accuse  or  to  die.  Did  this  show  me  a  man  unworthy 
to  be  trusted? 

"I  determined  to  break  out  of  prison.  With  infinite  dif- 
ficulty and  repeated  miscarriages  I  at  length  effected  my 
purpose.  Instantly  a  proclamation,  with  a  hundred  guineas 
reward,  was  issued  for  apprehending  me.  I  was  obliged 
to  take  shelter  among  the  refuse  of  mankind,  in  the  midst 
of  a  gang  of  thieves.  I  encountered  the  most  imminent 
peril  of  my  life  when  I  entered  this  retreat,  and  when  I 
quitted  it.  Immediately  after,  I  travelled  almost  the  whole 
length  of  the  kingdom,  in  poverty  and  distress,  in  hourly 
danger  of  being  retaken  and  manacled  like  a  felon.  I 
would  have  fled  my  country;  I  was  prevented.  I  had  re- 
course to  various  disguises;  I  was  innocent,  and  yet  was 
compelled  to  as  many  arts  and  subterfuges  as  could  have 
been  entailed  on  the  worst  of  villains.  In  London  I  was 
as  much  harassed  and  as  repeatedly  alarmed  as  I  had  been 
in  my  flight  through  the  country.  Did  all  these  persecu- 
tions persuade  me  to  put  an  end  to  my  silence?  Xo:  I 
suffered  them  with  patience  and  submission;  I  did  not 
make  one  attempt  to  retort  them  upon  their  author. 

"I  fell  at  last  into  the  hands  of  the  miscreants  that  are 
nourished  with  human  blood.  In  this  terrible  situation,  I, 
for  the  first  time,  attempted,  by  turning  informer,  to  throw 
the  weight  from  myself.  Happily  for  me,  the  London  mag- 
istrate listened  to  my  tale  with  insolent  contempt. 

"I  soon,  and  long,  repented  of  my  rashness,  and  rejoiced 
in  my  miscarriage. 

"I  acknowledge  that,  in  various  ways,  Mr.  Falkland 
showed  humanity  towards  me  during  this  period.  He 
would  have  prevented  my  going  to  prison  at  first;  he  con- 
tributed towards  my  subsistence  during  my  detention;  he 
had  no  share  in  the  pursuit  that  had  been  set  on  foot 
against  me;  he  at  length  procured  my  discharge,  when 
brought  forward  for  trial.     But  a  great  part  of  his  for- 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  407 

bearance  was  unknown  to  me;  I  supposed  him  to  be  my 
unrelenting  pursuer.  I  could  not  forget  that,  whoever 
heaped  calamities  on  me  in  the  sequel,  they  all  originated 
in  his  forged  accusation. 

"The  prosecution  against  me  for  felony  was  now  at  an 
end.  Why  were  not  my  sufferings  permitted  to  terminate 
then,  and  I  allowed  to  hide  my  weary  head  in  some  ob- 
scure yet  tranquil  retreat?  Had  I  not  sufficiently  proved 
my  constancy  and  fidelity?  Would  not  a  compromise  in 
this  situation  have  been  most  wise  and  most  secure?  But 
the  restless  and  jealous  anxiety  of  Mr.  Falkland  would  not 
permit  him  to  repose  the  least  atom  of  confidence.  The 
only  compromise  that  he  proposed  was,  that  with  my  own 
hand  I  should  sign  myself  a  villain.  I  refused  this  pro- 
posal, and  have  ever  since  been  driven  from  place  to  place, 
deprived  of  peace,  of  honest  fame,  even  of  bread.  For  a 
long  time  I  persisted  in  the  resolution  that  no  emergency 
should  convert  me  into  the  assailant.  In  an  evil  hour  I 
at  last  listened  to  my  resentment  and  impatience,  and  the 
hateful  mistake  into  which  I  fell  has  produced  the  present 
scene. 

"I  now  see  that  mistake  in  all  its  enormity.  I  am  sure, 
that  if  I  had  opened  my  heart  to  Mr.  Falkland,  if  I  had 
told  him  privately  the  tale  that  I  have  now  been  telling, 
he  could  not  have  resisted  my  reasonable  demand.  After 
all  his  precautions,  he  must  ultimately  have  depended  upon 
my  forbearance.  Could  he  be  sure  that,  if  I  were  at  last 
worked  up  to  disclose  everything  I  knew,  and  to  enforce 
it  with  all  the  energy  I  could  exert,  I  should  obtain  no 
credit?  If  he  must  in  every  case  be  at  my  mercy,  in  which 
mode  ought  he  to  have  sought  his  safety,  in  conciliation, 
or  in  inexorable  cruelty?  ^^ 

"Mr.  Falkland  is  of  a  noble  nature.     Yes;   in  spite  of^"H 
the  catastrophe  of  Tyrrel,    of   the   miserable  end  of   the 
Hawkinses,  and  of  all  that  I  have  myself  suffered,  I  affirm 
that  he  has  qualities  of  the  most  admirable  kind.     It  is 
therefore  impossible  that  he  could  have  resisted  a  frank 


408  ADVENTURES  OF 

and  fervent  expostulation,  the  frankness  and  the  fervour  in 
which  the  whole  soul  is  poured  out.  I  despaired,  while  it 
was  yet  time  to  have  made  the  just  experiment;  but  my 
despair  was  criminal,  was  treason  against  the  sovereignty 
of  truth. 

"I  have  told  a  plain  and  unadulterated  tale.  I  came 
hither  to  curse,  but  I  remain  to  bless.  I  came  to  accuse, 
but  am  compelled  to  applaud.  I  proclaim  to  all  the  world, 
tW  A[r  Paivip|n4  is  a  man  worthy  of  affection  and  kind- 
ness,  and  that  I  am  myself  the  basest  and  most  odious  of 
mankind!  Never  will  I  forgive  myself  the  iniquity  of  this 
day.  The  memory  will  always  haunt  me,  and  imbitter 
every  hour  of  my  existence.  In  thus  acting  I  have  been 
•  a  murderer — a  cool,  deliberate,  unfeeling  murderer. — I  have 
said  what  my  accursed  precipitation  has  obliged  me  to  say. 
Do  with  me  as  you  please!  I  ask  no  favour.  Death  would 
be  a  kindness  compared  to  what  I  feel!" 

Such  were  the  accents  dictated  by  my  remorse.  I  poured 
them  out  with  uncontrollable  impetuosity;  for  my  heart 
was  pierced,  and  I  was  compelled  to  give  vent  to  its  an- 
guish. Every  one  that  heard  me  was  petrified  with  aston- 
ishment. Every  one  that  heard  me  was  melted  into  tears. 
They  could  not  resist  the  ardour  with  which  I  praised  the 
great  qualities  of  Falkland;  they  manifested  their  sym- 
pathy in  the  tokens  of  my  penitence. 

How  shall  I  describe  the  feelings  of  this  unfortunate 
man?  Before  I  began,  he  seemed  sunk  and  debilitated, 
incapable  of  any  strenuous  impression.  When  I  mentioned 
the  murder,  I  could  perceive  in  him  an  involuntary  shud- 
dering, though  it  was  counteracted  partly  by  the  feeble- 
ness of  his  frame,  and  partly  by  the  energy  of  his  mind. 
This  was  an  allegation  he  expected,  and  he  had  endeav- 
oured to  prepare  himself  for  it.  But  there  was  much  of 
what  I  said  of  which  he  had  had  no  previous  conception. 
When  I  expressed  the  anguish  of  my  mind,  he  seemed  at 
first  startled  and  alarmed,  lest  this  should  be  a  new  expe- 
dient to  gain  credit  to  my  tale.     His  indignation  against 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  409 

me  was  great  for  having  retained  all  my  resentment  to- 
wards him,  thus,  as  it  might  be,  to  the  last  hour  of  his 
existence.  It  was  increased  when  he  discovered  me,  as  he 
supposed,  using  a  pretence  of  liberality  and  sentiment  to 
give  new  edge  to  my  hostility.  But  as  I  went  on  he  could  no 
longer  resist.  He  saw  my  sincerity;  he  was  penetrated  with 
my  grief  and  compunction.  He  rose  from  his  seat,  sup- 
ported by  the  attendants,  and,  to  my  infinite  astonishment, 
threw  himself  into  my  arms! 

"Williams,"  said  he,  "you  have  conquered!  I  see  too 
late  the  greatness  and  elevation  of  your  mind.  I  confess  / 
that  it  is  to  my  fault  and  not  yours,  that  it  is  to  the  excess 
nfjValrnjsy  that  ^-^  .ever  burning  in  my  hosnm  that  I  owe 
my  ruin.  I  could  have  resisted  any  plan  of  malicious  accu- 
sation you  might  have  brought  against  me.  But  I  see  that 
the  artless  and  manly  story  you  have  told  has  carried  con- 
viction to  every  hearer.  All  my  prospects  are  concluded. 
All  that  I  most  ardently  desired  is  for  ever  frustrated.  I 
have  spent  a  life  of  the  basest  cruelty,  to  cover  one  act  of 
momentary  vice,  and  to  protect  myself  against  the  preju- 
dices of  my  species.  I  stand  now  completely  detected.  My 
name  will  be  consecrated  to  infamy,  while  your  heroism, 
your  patience,  and  your  virtues  will  be  for  ever  admired. 
You  have  inflicted  on  me  the  most  fatal  of  all  mischiefs; 
but  I  bless, the- hand-4hat  worrrrds-me.  And  now," — turn- 
ing tothe  magistrate, — "and  now,  do  with  mlTalfyou  please. 
I  am  prepared  to  suffer  all  the  vengeance  of  the  law.  You 
cannot  inflict  on  me  more  than  I  deserve.  You  cannot 
hate  me  more  than  I  hate  myself.  I  am  the  most  execrable 
of  all  villains.  I  have  for  many  years  (I  know  not  how 
long)  dragged  on  a  miserable  existence  in  insupportable 
pain.  I  am  at  last,  in  recompense  for  all  my  labours  and 
my  crimes,  dismissed  from  it  with  the  disappointment  of 
my  only  remaining  hope,  the  destruction  of  that  for  the 
sake  of  which  alone  I  consented  to  exist.  It  was  worthy 
of  such  a  life  that  it  should  continue  just  long  enough  to 
witness   this  final   overthrow.     If,  however,  you  wish   to 


4io  ADVENTURES  OF 

punish  me,  you  must  be  speedy  in  your  justice;  for,  as 
reputation  was  the  blood  that  warmed  my  heart,  so  I  feel 
that  death  and  infamy  must  seize  me  together." 

I  record  the  praises  bestowed  on  me  by  Falkland,  not 
because  I  deserved  them,  but  because  they  serve  to  aggra- 
vate the  baseness  of  my  cruelty.  He  survived  this  dreadful 
^  j  ^  scene  but  three  days.  I  have  been  his  murderer.  It  was 
x  5r*  P  fit  that  he  should  praise  "Iny^patience  who  has  fallen  a  vic- 
"5   S  tim,  life  and  fame,  to  my  precipitation!      It  would  have 

j  been  merciful  in  comparison,  if  I  had  planted  a  dagger  in 
^  \    his  heart.     He  would  have  thanked  me  for  my  kindness. 

But,  atrocious,  execrable  wretch  that  I  have  been!  I  wan- 
tonly inflicted  on  him  an  anguish  a  thousand  times  worse 
than  death.  Meanwhile  I  endure  the  penalty  of  my  crime. 
His  figure  is  ever  in  imagination  before  me.  Waking  or 
sleeping,  I  still  behold  him.  He  seems  mildly  to  expostu- 
late with  me  for  my  unfeeling  behaviour.  I  live  the  de- 
voted victim  of  conscious  reproach.  Alas!  I  am  the  same 
Caleb  Williams  that,  so  short  a  time  ago,  boasted  that, 
however  great  were  the  calamities  I  endured,  I  was  still 
innocent. 

Such  has  been  the  result  of  a  project  I  formed  for  deliver- 
ing myself  from  the  evil  that  had  so  long  attended  me.  I 
thought,  that  if  Falkland  were  dead  I  should  return  once 
again  to  all  that  makes  life  worth  possessing.  I  thought, 
that  if  the  guilt  of  Falkland  were  established  fortune  and 
the  world  would  smile  upon  my  efforts.  Both  these  events 
are  accomplished;  and  it  is  now  only  that  I  am  truly 
miserable. 

Why  should  my  reflections  perpetually  centre  upon  my- 
self ?4-selfy  an  overweening  regard  to  which  has  been  the 
source^trfmy  errors!  Falkland,  I  will  think  only  of  thee, 
and  from  that  thought  will  draw  ever-fresh  nourishment 
for  my  sorrows!  One  generous,  one  disinterested  tear  I 
will  consecrate  to  thy  ashes!  A  nobler  spirit  lived  not 
among  the  sons  of  men.  Thy  intellectual  powers  were 
truly  sublime,  and  thy  bosom  burned  with  a  godlike  am- 


CALEB  WILLIAMS  411 

bition.  But  of  what  use  are  talents  and  sentiments  in  the 
corrupt  wilderness  of  human  society?  It  is  a  rank  and 
rotten  soil,  from  which  every  finer  shrub  draws  poison  as 
it  growls.  All  that,  in  a  happier  field  and  a  purer  air, 
would  expand  into  virtue  and  germinate  into  usefulness  is 
thus  converted  into  henbane  and  deadly  nightshade. 

Falkland !  thou  enteredst  upon  thy  career  with  the  purest 
and  most  laudable  intentions.  But  thou  imbibedst  the 
poison  of  chivalry  with  thy  earliest  youth;  and  the  base 
and  low-minded  envy  that  met  thee  on  thy  return  to  thy 
native  seats  operated  with  this  poison  to  hurry  thee  into 
madness.  Soon,  too  soon,  by  this  fatal  coincidence,  were 
the  blooming  hopes  of  thy  youth  blasted  for  ever.  From 
that  moment  thou  only  continuedst  to  live  to  the  phantom 
of  departed  honour.  From  that  moment  thy  benevolence 
was,  in  a  great  part,  turned  into  rankling  jealousy  and  in- 
exorable precaution.  Year  after  year  didst  thou  spend  in 
this  miserable  project  of  imposture;  and  only  at  last  con- 
tinuedst to  live,  long  enough  to  see,  by  my  misjudging  and 
abhorred  intervention,  thy  closing  hope  disappointed,  and 
thy  death  accompanied  with  the  foulest  disgrace! 

I  began  these  memoirs  with  the  idea  of  vindicating  my 
character.  I  have  now  no  character  that  I  wish  to  vin- 
dicate: but  I  will  finish  them  that  thy  story  may  be  fully 
understood;  and  that,  if  those  errors  of  thy  life  be  known 
which  thou  so  ardently  desiredst  to  conceal,  the  world  may 
at  least  not  hear  and  repeat  a  half-told  and  mangled  tale. 


THE    END. 


PRINTED    IN    THE    U      S.    A.     BY 

OUINN    a    BODEN    COMPANY,    INC. 

RAKWAY.     N.    J. 


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UNIVERSITY  O ■'  CALIxiu    -TA   URi 

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UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 

This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


RECD  LD-URl! 

1 3  1990 


REC'O  [  D-UW 
Hi    APR171996 


NON-RENEW.IBL: 

StP  2  0  199 }  WK  JAN  0  5  1998 


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